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THE 

DAUGHTER OF AFFLICTION. 
A MEMOIR 

Of the Protracted Sufferings, and Religious Experience 

OF 

MISS MARY RANKIN: 

AS 

COMMUNICATED BY HER TO HER LATE ATTENDING PHYSICIAN, 
D . R. GOOD. 

It is good for me that I have been afflicted,—- Psalms, 



PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AT THE UNITED BRETHREN PRINTING 
ESTABLISHMENT. 

DAYTON, OHIO. 

1858. 




®&A <W« W 



This volume is affectionately dedicated, as an acknowledg- 
ment of gratitude for her devotedness as a mother, and 
her unremitting kindness as a nurse, during my long, long 
night of affliction, 

By her daughter, 

MARY. 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1858, by 

MISS MARY RANKIN, 

In the Clerk's office of the Southern District of Ohio. 



TESTXMONTAJL. 

The undersigned have bean pleased to learn, that the " Memoirs 
and Religious Experience of Miss Mary Rankin *l is about to be 
published. Hers is a most interesting case, illustrative of the 
power of our blessed religion to sustaiu and comfort the soul, un- 
der the most trying aud protracted bodily afflictions. For twenty 
years she has been a constant and intense sufferer. For twenty 
years she has walked through the furnace of affliction: but ever 
while " walking in the midst of the fire," one has been with her 
"like the Son of God," and a wonderful measure of sustaining 
grace has been given her. Believing that "affliction cometh not 
forth of the dust/' but is sent upon God's people for purposes 
mysteriously glorious, we believe that the proposed publication 
will be both interesting and useful. 

The remarkable communications of Divine grace which have 
marked her history during the almost unparalleled sufferings of 
twenty years, ought to be recorded, to God's glory and the honor 
of religion. If the storm w r as fierce and the cloud dark, faith 
flung a raiubow upon the cloud and cheered her amid the gloom. 
We cordially recommend this work to all Christians, as a monu- 
ment of God's faithfulness and as a solace in the hour of afflic- 
tion. 

Saml. M. Ross, M. D., Darlington, Beaver co., Pa. 

John D. Ross, M. D., Williamsburg, Blair co., Pa. 

B. F. Royer/M. D., Williamsburg, Blair co., Pa. 

Jacob M. Gemiil,M. D., Alexandria, Pa, 

John Feav, M. D., Williamsburg. Pa. 

Jesse Wolf, M. D., Yellow Springs, Pa. 

H. T. Coffey, Hollidaysburg, Pa. 

D. X. J unkin, Pastor of Presbyterian church, Hollidaysburg, Pa. 

S. H. Reid, Minister German Reform church, Huntingdon, Pa. 

A. H. Aughe, Pastor Ev. Lutheran church, Williamsburg, Pa. 

John Moore. Pastor Presbyterian church, Williamsburg, Pa. 

J. B. Resler, Minister United Brethren in Christ church, Mt. 
Pleasant, Pa. 

S. S. Snyder, Missionary IT. B. C. church, Kansas Territory. 

J. R. Sitman, formerly P. E., II. B. C. church. 

J. Potter, P. E., Eastern District, Alleghany Conference, U. B. 
C. church. 

T. L. Keesey, Pastor U. B. C. church, Johnstown, Pa. 

J. Walker, Minister U. B. C. church, Tyrone City, Pa. 

R. G. Rankin, Pastor U. B. C. church, Bellfont, Pa. 

D. Speck, Pastor U. B. C. church, Altoona, Pa. 



INTRODUCTION 



The Memoie contained In the follow- 
ing pages, clear reader, is a history of the 
past life and religious experience of one 
who can justly appropriate to herself, in 
its fullest sense, the title that has 
been chosen for this volume :— THE 
DAUGHTER OF AFFLICTION. 

Written, as it was, at her bedside, the 
narrative is told in plain, unassuming 
language, as it fell from her own lips. 
However marvelous some portions of- it 
may seem to be, rest assured that it is 
simply the truth untouched by the color- 
ings of imagination. Indeed, from what 
is here written, you cannot form any 
thing more than a very limited idea of 
what the reality has been. 

The only incentive that induces Miss 
Rankin to permit a memoir of her years 
of suffering to be presented to the public 
at this time, is a sense of duty which she 
feels that she owes to God; and to her fel- 
low creatures, by making known to them 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

His all-sustaining power under the most 
trying and afflictive circumstances. 

Some fifteen years ago, when herself 
and friends, as well as others, believed 
that she could not possibly survive much 
longer, many persons insisted upon her 
to have notes taken, so that a sketch of 
her life might be published after her 
death. The notes were accordingly writ- 
ten, but the manuscripts were after- 
wards lost as will be learned from the 
narrative. 

When she had again recovered a rea- 
sonable degree of health, she was repeat- 
edly urged by numerous friends, to have 
the notes re-written, but she would not 
consent, and afterwards endeavored to 
abandon entirely, the idea of ever allow- 
ing any thing of the kind to be published. 

But when she was once more prostra- 
ted by the hand of affliction, and brought 
nigh, as she supposed, to the brink of 
the grave: — when the past, the present, 
and the future loomed up before her, the 
will of her Heavenly Father was made 
plain. She says, — "I saw my duty as I 
never had been able to do before. Jonah- 
like, I fain would have excused myself; 
but the waves of affliction were now beat- 
ing against my bark. After much de- 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

liberation and earnest prayer, I was 
compelled from the fullness of mj soul 
to cry out, — J I am willing Lord,' to do, 
to be, or to suffer any thing, only so thy 
name be glorified." Thus she permits 
the work to go forth, believing that it is 
in accordance with His will. 

The dread of censure from persons 
who would perhaps misconstrue her mo- 
tives, and doubt the propriety of such a 
publication, has long been the cause of 
her unwillingness to have the history of 
her afflictions and religious experience 
written out, and submitted to the public 
during her life time. Should such un- 
kind reflections be cast back upon her, she 
can now say to such uncharitable persons: 
" I have counted the cost in this respect also." 
"The satisfied ambition of my soul re- 
joices in the favor of (xod.' ? Should this 
memoir be published during my life- 
time — which is now contemplated, I will 
trust in the all-sustaining grace of Him, 
who has enabled me to endure all things 
— to support me in bearing this cross 
also. 

With her permission, a few selections 
have been made from her epistolary cor- 
respondence, among which are letters 
from several of her friends and acquaint- 



8 INTKODUCTION. 

ances. Many more might have been 
added that would have no doubt greatly 
increased the interest of the volume, but 
they must be withheld for the present. 
When health and strength would permit 
she has generally kept up a large corres- 
pondence, in which she has never been 
at a loss for participants. This kind of 
employment has always afforded her a 
great deal of pleasure and agreeable rec- 
reation, when her mind was wearied with 
the labors of more abstruse studies. 
A few of her own epistles are neces- 

JL 

sarily inserted, of which many others, 
on various subjects, and equally as inter- 
esting and instructive, might have been 
added ; but these will serve to show that 
the tenor of her mind — the sentiments 
of her heart, and the characteristics of 
her nature and disposition are the same 
in health as in sickness, — that her love 
to God — her interests in the cause of re- 
ligion, and for the welfare of her fellow 
creatures is no less ardent when she is 
fanned by the balmy wing of the angel 
of health, than when the hand of afflic- 
tion is laid upon her. 

We would here remind the reader that 
these letters were not intended for pub- 
lication at the time they were written. 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

The authors of some of them have since 
quit the scenes of time — others are in 
distant lands — a few, perhaps, will read 
their epistles in this volume. So that 
whether they be dead or alive ; present 
or absent, they still speak to us. Read- 
er ! how careful should we be to consider 
well our thoughts — whether spoken or 
written, before we drop them upon the 
scroll of time, to be heard and read by 

j and influence, — we know not whom, 

nor how. 

The passer-by will be wounded by the 
thorns, or regaled by the fragrance of 
flowers that will grow upon our graves ! 
So will our thoughts and actions live to 
influence for good or evil, the minds of 
those who will walk the earth "when 
our faces are turned to the roots of the 
daisies/' 

Miss Rankin lays no claims to poetical 
genius, yet her poems will require no 
apology. They are but the silent medi- 
tations of her heart. Most of them were 
composed during long and wakeful nights 
of suffering, whilst all around her were 
enjoying the sweet repose of balmy sleep. 
Thus she has realized for herself, the 
truth of the significant words of Job,— * 
"My Maker giveth songs in the night," 



10 INTBODUCTXOX. 

Some of these pieces were composed 
and entrusted to Iier memory for days, 
when her hand was too feeble to write, 
and her voice too weak to communicate 
them to be written down. Thus, reader, 
Ton mav form some idea of her vigorous 
mind, and the power of her memory; 
and her ability to control and exercise 
them under circumstances of the most 
intense suffering, and the greatest ph} r s- 
ical prostration. 

With no desire to excite your incre- 
dulity, dear reader, but merely to pre- 
sent you with facts, I will here state that 
the greater portion of the narrative con- 
tained in the following pages, was com- 
municated when she had not power to 
turn her hand, nor raise her head ; and 
when the tone of her voice was so feeble 
that the ear of the writer was required 
to be very near her pillow, so as to hear 
her words distinct! v enough to under- 
stand them, and the writing was requir- 
ed to be done with a pencil because her 
nervous sensibilities., for a considerable 
length of time, were so susceptible, that 
she could not comfortably endure the 
noise of a pen on paper so near iiei\ 
* Thus has her mind ever been active, 
eaim and composed. Even when the 



INTE0DUCTI03T. 11 

current of life had sunken to its lowest 
ebb; and when she scarcely possessed 
strength enough to give motion to her 
lips, her almost inaudable whispers told 
us that reason still occupied its throne. 
Several times have her physical powers 
become so completely relaxed, and re- 
mained inactive for such a length of time, 
that it was believed that the vital spark 
had quit its tenement of mortality, and 
the news of her death was spread abroad; 
and neighbors went to the house to in- 
quire "when she would be buried, and where, 
&c; " which inquiries she overheard, but 
could not move a nerve or muscle to make 
known to those who wept around her, 
that she was still " present with them in 
the body." 

After some time however she gradu- 
ally revived. Her heart seemed to have 
ceased its feeble action for a time, as if 
to rest, that it might resume its work of 
impelling the life current in its wonted 
course with renewed vigor; which it did, 
for she again slowly recovered. 

At another time when she was very 
low, and was suffering greatly, she fre- 
quently sank away, and for long intervals 
remained seemingly in a lifeless condi- 
tion. 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

Each, temporary cessation of the vital 
functions was supposed to be the final, or 
closing scene of her life. But by contin- 
ued efforts she was from time to time re- 
vived and supported by medicines. 

On one occasion, an old lady, whose 
feelings of sympathy were peculiarly 
wrought, deemed it "cruel" — in view of 
the much affliction she had already en- 
dured, for any one to desire her to live 
longer, and she begged the physician 
and friends to "let Mary die in 
peace." 

When another attempt was made to 
revive her from one of these sinking 
spells, the lady left the room, and went 
home, where she manifested her dissatis- 
faction by saying: — "Mary is ready to 
die and willing to die, and the doctor and 
her mother won't let her die." 

Thus, she has oft times, for days, strug- 
gled in the icy hand of death. But the 
hour of her departure had not yet come. 
Death had not been summoned to anato- 
mize the soul from the body, — to dissect 
the spirit from its substance. 

She still lives to teach us lessons of 
patience, long-suffering and submission 
to the will of that "God, whose love is jus- 
tice , and whose justice is love" 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

Some have dared to assert that He 
has dealt unjustly with her ; yet never 
has a murmur escaped her own lips 
against Hoi in whose hand is the rod 
which she has ever willingly kissed. 
Knowing that it is the hand of a Benefi- 
cent Parent that has laid it upon her, 
she is enabled to regard her afflictions 
as rich blessings wisely and justly be 
stowed by "The G-iyek of all good."" 

The converted and unconverted — the 
believer and skeptic — and those who ac- 
knowledge, and those who deny the jus- 
tice of God, have heard such sentiments 
as the following fall from her lips : 

" Though he hath afflicted me more 
than falls to the common lot of mankind, 
since he hath not left me alone to suffer, 
should I repine, or think his dealings 
with me are hard?" 

God, in the economy of nature gener- 
ally choses to work by common or natu- 
ral laws, which enable us, so far as we 
are capable of comprehending them, to 
reason from cause to effect. But when 
He for some wise purpose, unknown to 
us, sees proper to deviate from those 
laws, should we be found ready to ex- 
claim, "What doest thou?" or, "Why 
hast thou thus formed me ?" " Shall not 



14 INTRODUCTION. 

the Judge of all the earth do right?" 
" Shall not the laws of Nature be subs.er 
vient to Nature's God?" 

When he has a purpose to perform can 
he not as easily act indpendent of those 
laws ? 

Although "it is appointed unto all 
men to die," yet when he wills it, an 
Enoch is translated, and an Elijah is 
conveyed to Heaven without tasting 
death. So when he calls us to pass 
through "the furnace of affliction," or to 
remain passive therein even for years, 
"he sitteth by as a refiner of silver," and 
has promised that the flames shall not 
hurt us," and that "he will proportion his 
grace according to our trials." 
u " It is not that the suffering Christian's 
sensibilities are blunted : they feel the 
smarting of the rod as sorely as others, but 
have learned to look upon affliction as a 
Divine appointment, and as coming from a 
Father's hand, who is "too wise to err, and 
too just to be unkind," they can, there- 
fore, cheerfully acquiesce to His will." 

"This submission is the appointed 
channel through which all the comforts 
of grace are made to flow." 

" Though affliction hath abounded," by 
endeavoring to bear it with a meek and 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

submissive spirit, "grace hath much 
more abounded/' 

Have I been patient? — this too is a 
gift of God, and it is our duty as well as 
our privilege to exercise it ; and like all 
other graces, if cultivated it is its own 
rewarder. 

"Let patience have her perfect work, 
and in your patience possess ye your 
souls/' is the language of Him who was 
made perfect through suffering, and be- 
came obedient even unto death ! 

This grace not only gives peace, com- 
fort and passiveness to the possessor, but 
affords an opportunity to recommend to 
others that " religion which is first pure, 
then peaceable, — gentle, long-suffering, 
and easily to be entreated." 

Reader, with this declaration of willing 
resignation to the Divine will — this ex- 
ample of Christian submission before us, 
we may, in some degree at least, under- 
stand how this DAUGHTER OF AFFLICTION 

has been enabled to "endure all things — 
to suffer all things, and to give thanks 
for all things" that her Heavenly Father 
has allotted unto her, and we should 
learn therefrom a lesson of patience and 
submission. 

Though a helpless sufferer — secluded 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

from the world, in her humble mountain 
home — confined to the prison house of 
pain, and deprived of almost every tem- 
poral privilege and enjoyment, for many 
long years, she assures us that she has not 
been left alone. Grod has been with her, 
and has given her kind friends and 
neighbors, whose pleasure, as well as 
privilege it is to administer to her com- 
fort and happiness, and to share such 
gratitude as ever makes them feel that 
they are but debtors to her. 

We have a pleasant reward in the sat- 
isfaction afforded us in being able to re- 
lieve the sufferings of our fellow creatures, 
even if nothing but stoical indifference is 
offered in return ; but when manifesta- 
tions of soul-felt gratitude — such as she 
has ever evinced — fall upon the heart 
like gentle dews from Heaven, we receive 
the best and holiest reward that mortals 
can give; and which is worth more than 
all the trophies of honor and applause 
that the world can bestow. Of such 
gratitude we and many others have been 
the recipients, even when we felt that she 
owed us none. Under circumstances, 
too, that might reasonably have given 
rise to other feelings and emotions, she 
has still been grateful. "Gratitude to 



INTRODUCTION. 17 

a Friend," (a poem in this volume) was 
composed during a night of pain and 
sleeplessness, she says, "to suppress 
feelings of impatience when her physi- 
cian failed for several days to make his 
appointed visits." When the most severe 
and painful means were resorted to, with 
a hope of affording her some relief, but 
which often had no better effect than to 
increase her sufferings, she did not com- 
plain, nor cast unkind reflections upon 
those who employed them; but was 
grateful for the design with which they 
were used. 

Under these, and all other circumstan- 
ces, have we found her disposition the 
same — kind, amiable, and Christian-like. 
'•Xever have I noticed on her brow the 
cloud of desponding sorrow." Even 
when she struggled in the grasp of death, 
she was not harrassed by fears and 
doubtings; a calm, sweet peace had 
settled down upon her. Joyousness 
seemed to bloom in all her thoughts, and 
happiness was wreathed in her every 
sentiment. 

"Joy like hers is not strewn in the bleak, broad road of sin, 
Its flowers are hung upon hedges that line the narrow way; 
And there the faint travelers of earth may wander and 

gather for themselves, 
To soothe their wounded hearts, balm from the ama- 

rai.tlio of Heaven." d. n a. 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF MARY RANKIN, 

PAET FIKST. 
CHAPTER I. 

ACCOUNT OF MY PARENTAGE AMD EARLY HISTORY. 

I was born in Huntington county, Pa. ? 
A. D. 1821. My parents were humble 
but respectable. My father died when I 
was very youn%\ leaving a family of sey- 
en children. Of my father, I scarcely 
remember any thing. I recollect the 
evening of his death because that sad oc- 
currence made impressions upon my mind 
which time has not been able to efface. 
Although so young, yet when caressed 
by kind and sympathizing friends, and 
tenderly called a "poor little orphan/ 5 — 
there seemed to me to be something so 
sad and unpleasant in the title, that I 
wished, in my childish simplicity, that 
they would not call me by that name. 

Shortly after my father's death, my 



20 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

mother and five of the children, (myself 
among the number,) took fever, of which 
my second sister died in less than a 
month. I was, in the mean time, taken 
by kind friends and cared for; and recov- 
ered from the attack much sooner than 
the rest of the family. From that time 
until I was about six years of age, noth- 
ing of importance transpired in my his- 
tory, of which I have now an} 7 recollec- 
tion ; excepting the following incident:— 
Being at a certain place, the lady with 
wdiom I lived sent me one evening on an 
errand some distance from the house : 
passing a peach tree laden ed with deli- 
cious fruit, I plucked some, and while 
eating one of the peaches, the seed acci- 
dently passed into my throat, entirely 
preventing respiration. My head grew 
dizzy, and all around became dark from 
the strangulation. I fell to the ground 
and thought I must die. The shock 
from the fall had the effect of dislodging 
the seed. When consciousness returned, 
I found myself prostrate on the ground 
with the seed in my mouth; and, Oh ! how 



MARY RANKIN. 21 

thankful I felt, that an interposing provi- 
dence had kindly spared my life. 

When reflecting on this circumstance 
in after life, I have thought how much 
sorrow and suffering I would have es- 
caped, had the Lord then taken me; but 
such, it appears, was not his will, and 
whilst my sufferings have been Ions; and 
severe, this scripture has been the source 
of sweet consolation : "Ail things work 
together for good to them that love God," 
&c. 

I can date my first religious impres- 
sions back to about this time. The way 
in which these impressions were made 
was as follows : One Sabbath evening, 
my mother, as usual, was reading her 
family Bible; while a younger brother 
and I were playing. This was consider- 
ed out of place by her, but as it was not 
her custom to inflict punishment hastily, 
she permitted the offense to remain un- 
punished until after she was done read- 
ing. She closed the Bible and reminded 
us that it was time to retire to bed. Al- 
though my mother was not, at this date, 



22 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

a professor of religion, she made us kneel 
on the evening of each Lord's clay while 
she heard us repeat our prayers. This 
evening she did not grant us this privi- 
lege, hut urged us to prepare for bed. 
While I was lingering in expectation of 
the observance of our usual custom, she 
asked why I did not obey her and retire; 
I replied, we have not yet said our pray- 
ers, — her answer was, as you have been 
disobedient children I will deprive you 
of that privilege this evening. I com- 
menced weeping, and when again com- 
manded to retire, I remarked, that I was 
afraid to go to bed without saying my 
prayers; for I reflected that if I had been 
too bad to pray, what would become of 
me were I to die that night. I contin- 
ued weeping until at hist mother permit- 
ted me to say my prayers. 

But the remorse of conscience which 
I felt that evening did not leave me. I 
then felt, for the first time, that I was a 
sinner and unfit for heaven. From that 
time I always had the fear of G-od before 
my eyes — always feared to offend Him, 



MARY RANKIN. 23 

and felt a desire to love and serve him. 
From this time nothing of importance oc- 
cured until I was in my eighth year. I 
now went to live in a family where I re- 
mained six years or more, The mem- 
bers of this family belonged to the Lu- 
theran church; and I occasionally accom- 
panied them to their place of worship. 
I also commenced attending a Sabbath 
school, which met some two miles from 
the place where I resided. In this nur- 
sery of the church, I not only received 
some very good instructions,- — but instruc- 
tions that made deep and lasting impres- 
sions. 

When about ten years of age, I was 
present at a communion season of the 
Presbvterian church, and heard the Rev. 
Mr. Wilson deliver a sermon on that 
subject. That which impressed me most 
permanently, was his address to the young 
communicants. Although so young, his 
words seemed to melt my very soul. I 
retired that evening before the rest of 
the family, and kneeling by my bedside, 
poured out my soul in fervent prayer to 



24 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

God as a sinner. Having lain down, I 
still continued the voice of my supplica- 
tions. Suddenly a change came over 
me > — light broke into my soul, and joy — 
unspeakable joy filled my heart. 

Some may suppose that these ideas 
were Methodistical, and to this may be 
attributed those peculiar feelings and 
impressions of which I have just spoken. 
But to such I would say, that as yet, I 
had never heard a sermon preached by 
any of that denomination; nor had I ever 
been at any of their meetings; and, knew 
scarcely any thing about them, except 
the name. 

But unfortunately for me, I lacked the 
advantages of those gracious means so in- 
dispensable to the spiritual nourishment 
of the babe in Christ; and I therefore 
partially, though never entirely, lost 
what I had experienced. Could I have 
at this time, opened my mind to some 
one experienced in these things, and who 
could have encouraged me, I might have 
continued to grow in grace, and in the 
knowledge of the Lord. 



MARY EAXKIX. 25 

True, a granddaughter of my kind pro- 
tectoress, (now Mrs. B:,) being piously 
inclined, gave me much wholesome ad- 
vice, Her dislike to works of fiction , 
caused me to regard them with disgust 
and horror, and but for the influence she 
exerted upon me, I might have acquired 
a taste for novel reading. When at 
school, it was to her I resorted for aid, 
If I encountered difficulties in my studies 
that I could not surmount. The bond 
of friendship then formed, has been last- 
ing, and the recollection of her tender as- 
siduities still excites within my bosom 
the sweetest emotions of gratitude and 
love. 

In this connection allow me to relate 
one incident in reference to which her 
example and instructions had a very hap- 
py effect upon me. A number of our 
young associates having secretly erected 
a swing some distance from our dwellings 
when a Sabbath evening walk was pro- 
posed, we always repaired to. the place 
where the swing was erected for our 
evening's sport and recreation, At firsi 



26 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

some of us felt afraid to go on the swing; 
but after repeated assurances from our 
young friends that there was not the 
least danger, we all consented to take a 
ride upon it. But when alone once 
more, I paid dear for my Sabbath sport. 
Conscience, that divine monitor, smote 
me severely for having desecrated the 
Lord's day. At first I tried to console 
myself with the thought that I had done 
nothing more than my associates, and if 
not wrong in them, surely it could not be 
wrong in me. But it was a question on 
which I could not satisfy myself that any 
of us had clone right; and therefore, I 
sought relief by fervent prayer, and re- 
solved that I would do so no more. But 
O! my resolution was evanescent as the 
early dew; for, a few Sabbaths after, 
when again solicited to join in their sport, 
I yielded once more. And now I went 
with "the multitude to do evil" in this 
way for some time, but not without com- 
punction for my sins. 

After some time, the friend before re- 
ferred to, accompanied us to the place of 



MARY RAXKIX. 27 

our recreations, but would not partici- 
pate with us, though repeatedly solicited 
to do so. I at length took a seat beside 
her, and in answer to my question, why- 
she did not share our pleasures, she said, 
"she did not think it was right to swing- 
on the Sabbath, — that we might fall from 
it and be killed." This reproof was 
enough for me ; it agreed with my own 
convictions, and I resolved never to re- 
turn to the swing on Sabbath, and I 
never did. From this period until I was 
thirteen years of age, nothing of much 
interest transpired in my life. My de- 
sire to serve God, however, in the mean- 
time, increased. 

About this time I heard a sermon 
preached, recommending the propriety 
and utility of reading a portion of Scrip- 
ture every dav, should it be onlv a verse. 
From this time scarcely a day passed, 
that I did not read a portion of the in- 
spired pages. In this exercise I not only 
found pleasure but benefit ; and felt dis 
satisfied with myself if I omitted it. 



CHAPTER II. 

AN ACCOUNT OF THE INJURY I RECEIVED. 

In June of 1838, I received an injury 
by running a white thorn in my foot, 
which, although it ruined my health, and 
resulted in the amputation of my limb, 
must be regarded as the external means 
of separating my heart fully from the 
world, and uniting it to Christ. But for 
this accident, I might have become vain 
and forgetful of God ; but this had the 
happy effect of showing me how frail we 
are at our best stete, and that the small- 
est circumstance may remove us into the 
presence of that awful Judge of quick 
and dead, where all must render a strict 
account for the deeds done in the body. 

Ail the efforts of surgery and medical 
skill used in my case, to restore health, 
proved abortive. The thorn had pene- 
trated the joint of the small toe, from 
which it seemed impossible to extract 
it. During this period of my afflic- 



31ARY RANKIN. 29 

tions, and until the latter part of the en- 
suing Auo'ust, I remained in the same 
family whel*e I had been residing ; after 
which I returned to my parental home, 
where I have ever since remained an in- 
valid. 

Shortly after I returned home, I at- 
tended, for the first time, a meeting held 
by the "United Brethren in Christ." 
Being of a religious turn of mind, my 
eldest sister became ouite anxious about 

JL 

me, lest, as she said, they might frighten 
me into their measures. We continued 
at the meeting that day and evening, and 
instead of keeping a watch over me, my 
sister was so wrought upon by the Spirit 
of God, that she presented herself at the 
altar of prayer, as a penitent; and al- 
though she did not embrace religion that 
evening, she came to me after the meet- 
ing closed, and told me that I should not 
be influenced in this matter by anything 
she had previously said ; that if I felt 
the need of grace, and was disposed to 
designate myself as a seeker of religion, 
I should do so. 



30 AUTO-BIOGrEAPHY OF 

But notwithstanding I was much 
pleased with their mode of worship, I 
did not feel like taking so important a 
step without a deeper sense of my sinful 
condition. During the progress of the 
meeting, my mother also attended and 
became deeply interested concerning the 
salvation of her soul. After we returned 
home, both she and my sister experi- 
enced the joy of pardoning love. Pow- 
erfully impressed by their conversion, 
I resolved to devote myself wholly to 
the Lord; and therefore, to carry out 
this one great, all-absorbing purpose of 
my soul, I sought, in the solitary grove, 
a sequestered spot, to which I frequently 
resorted to pour out my soul in fervent 
prayer to God. So intensely did I be- 
come affected, that I frequently repaired 
to my lonely retreat after the dark car- 
tains of night had been thrown around 
it. In this state of mind I continued for 
sometime. But at length — -thanks be 
to His holy name — I felt that Grod for 
Christ's sake, had pardoned my sins, and 
graciously adopted me into His family. 







MAEY RANKIN. 31 

Yet the change with me was so gradu- 
al, that, notwithstanding the Spirit of 
God bore witness with my spirit that I 
was born of G-od, I could hardly believe 
it. Others I thought, had received great- 
er blessings than I, and enjoyed more ; 
and these thoughts led me to fear that 
perhaps I was deceiving myself. The 
desire that I had previously felt to con- 
nect mvself with some branch of the 
Christian church, now daily increased ; 
but still I feared that I was too young. 
About this time, however, I had a pre- 
sentiment of some change about to take 
place, which I then supposed would be 
my death. This increased my desire to 
become a member of some branch of 
Grod's visible church . Shortly after this, 
I heard the Rev. E. Hoffman of the TJ. 
B. church preach. After the sermon, he 
gave an invitation to any who wished to 
connect themselves with the church, to 
give in their names. Without having 
previously made known my determina- 
tion to any one, I arose voluntarily, and 
presented myself for membership; and 



82 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 



to my great surprise and delight, my 
mother and my sister came forward also, 
and thus we all at the same time joined 
the church of the " United Brethren in 
Christ," of which I am still a member. 

But scarcely had this been done, till 
the enemy suggested that I had pursued 
an improper course ; that I was quite too 
young to think of connecting myself with 
the church; and that, after having "run 
well for a season," I would, like many 
others, apostatize, and disgrace the cause. 
But by the help of grace, I overcame 
the temptation, i retired to a lonely 
spot, and there, In secret prayer, be- 
sought God to give me grace to endure 
to the end; and that I might be as Mary 
of old, who had " chosen that good part 
which should never be taken from her." 
I persevered in prayer until I was filled 
with light, and joy, and peace. I was 
then perfectly reconciled, believing that 
He who called me, could also keep me 
faithful to the end. 

I now commenced anew the study of 
the Scriptures, and made them the man 



MARY RANKIN. 33 

of my counsel — committed much of them 
to memory, and beheld new beauties in 
them every day. "The Law of the 
Lord was my delight, and in it did I 
meditate both night and day," fully deter- 
mined to live and die a decided and de- 
voted Christian. 

A SINGULAR DREAM. 

Although I entertain no superstitious 
views in regard to dreams, I had one 
about this time that made a deep impres- 
sion upon my mind and feelings. I 
dreamed that my eldest sister, (who had 
but lately been converted to Christ, and 
lived but a short time afterwards,) and 
myself were walking in a beautiful garden 
bedecked with fruits and flowers. As 
we walked side by side, we conversed 
about the beauties of the place until we 
neared a mansion which stood in its 
midst. As we approached it she pre- 
ceded me, and gained its portals first. I 
continued to follow her. After having 
crossed the threshold I beheld a being 
in bright and flowing robes, which she 
approached, and was received by it with 
3 



34 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

out-str etched arms, and the plaudit 
"well clone, good and faithful servant, 
enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 

I wept at the thought of being separat- 
ed from her, and besought the being in 
shining robes not to take her, or else to 
take me also, as I did not wish to be left 
here without my sister's company. The 
response was, iX nQt now, but if faithful 
I will come for you at another time." 

This dream was made the more im- 
pressive by a remark made by my sister 
the evening before her death. For some 
time previous to her death she lay in a 
comatose condition, when struggling na- 
ture once more for a moment resumed its 
sway. Turning to where I lay, (for I was 
also at this time confined to bed, and lying 
in the same room,) she said to me, "Mary, 
do you see this beautiful being that 
stands by my bedside?" I answered in 
the negative, and asked her as to who, or 
where he was. She remarked again, " It 
is a beautiful being that stands here at 
my bedside." I told her I did not see 
any one, that she only imagined so. But 



MARY RAXXIX. 35 

she insisted that it was so, and added 
that she did not wish me to talk much 
with her, lest her mind might be dis- 
turbed. She soon after fell into a stupor 
again, from which she did not recover 
until she was just leaving the shores of 
dull mortality. I cannot tell the ago- 
ny I felt on account of her separation 
from me. Indeed, I longed to be re- 
leased also, that I might be united with 
her again in happier, brighter climes. 
But my cup of sorrow and suffering was 
not vet full, and I endeavored to be rec- 
oncilecl to the will of God, and wait with. 
patience until my change shall come. 

I now appeared to have entered into a 
new state of being. My thoughts, my 
feelings, and my desires, were of Heaven 
and heavenly things. I cared nothing 
for the company of my former worldly 
associates of which I used to be so very 
fond. My chief delight was in reading, 
meditation, prayer, and attendance on 
the means of grace. 

When I first became a member of the 
church, I felt a great desire to partici- 



36 AUTOBIOGEAPHT OF 

pate in the communion of our blessed 
Lord and Savior. But as I was still 
young, my timidity prevented me from 
enjoying this means of grace. I regard- 
ed it as something so sacred, that I feared 
it would be presumption in me to ap- 
proach the Sacramental board, unless I 
could more fully comprehend the signifi- 
cation and import of that institution. It 
w T as not until a year after, that I could 
command courage to approach the altar ; 
and even then, I felt my un worthiness to 
be so great, that I could not have ven- 
tured nigh, had I not trusted in Him 
who said, "Do this in remembrance of 
me." I found the Sacrament then, and 
ever since, a strengthening Ordinance — 
an Ordinance in which I have never par- 
ticipated without feeling my spiritual 
strength renewed, and my Christian gra- 
ces invigorated. 

My health, which for two years had 
been gradually giving w^ay, now began to 
decline more rapidly. From my earliest 
childhood my nervous system was of the 
most sensitive character; so much so, 



MARY RANKIN. 37 

that I could not endure the sight of suf- 
fering without being much affected by it. 
Such was the acuteness of my sense of 
touch, that many things with which I 
came in contact, were a source of great 
annoyance to me. This was observed in 
me at the early age of five years. The lady 
who, after the death of my father, had first 
afforded me a home, and who took care of 
me when I had the fever before alluded 
to, soon after my recovery, gave her little 
daughter and me some stair-rods to scour. 
At first we were delighted with our task; 
but soon after, I commenced weeping, 
and they supposing that I did not wish 
to perform the work assigned us, kindly 
remarked that I need not proceed if I 
did not wish to. I told them that I wished 
to, but said it hurt me to scour them, 
and yet I could not tell in what way it 
affected me ; and consequently they 
passed it off with laughter. But in af- 
ter years I remember that the same grat- 
ing noise, caused by the same process, 
produced a burning, uneasy sensation. 
The foot and limb in which I had re- 



38 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

ceived the injury, had by this time, be- 
come quite contracted, and caused me a 
great deal of suffering. My friends, be- 
coming quite alarmed about me, spoke of 
calling in medical assistance, to which I 
would not consent. My reply invariably 
was : it is not worth while, believing as 
I before stated, that my days on earth 
were well nigh spent. But a physician 
was consulted notwithstanding. After 
examing into the case, he said that he 
feared that but little could be done for me. 
He, however, prescribed; but in a short 
time after taking medicine, I became 
permanently confined to my bed, where 
I remained for ten long and weary years, 
unable to sit up long enough to have my 
bed made. 

During the first year of my perma- 
nent illness, nothing very remarkable oc- 
curred. My religious enjoyments were 
generally good, and I spent all my time 
in reading, when my health would per- 
mit. I did not desire society, and could 
scarcely be induced to converse on any 
subject, except with my most intimate 



MARY EAXKIX. 



39 



friends, and with my attending physi- 
cian, Dr. J. Hoffmax, 

Being naturally timid, death at this 
time had terrors for me. The cold, 
damp, dark charnel house, 0, how I 
wished I could escape it ! At one time, 
I remember I was very ill, and it was 
thought that I could not survive anv 
length of time. The thought of death 
— inexorable death — troubled me so 
much, that the exercise of my mind rose 
almost to excitement. Heaven appeared 
at such a distance, I feared I never 
should reach it. Upon God, I looked as 
such a just and holy Being, that I feared 
to stand in his awful presence ! Thus 
my mind continued to be exercised for 
some time, when I again had recourse 
to prayer, — the lever with which the 
Christian can move the God of universal 
nature. Having called earnestly and fer- 
vently upon God to deliver me from these 
tormenting fears and doubts, the dark- 
ness that enshrouded me was dispelled; 
the fear that hath torment fled away; 
the curtain of time seemed to be draws. 



40 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

aside, and heaven appeared full in view. 
Wot as before, at a distance^ but as though 
it were but a step from the visible to the 
invisible world; and with the poet I 
could sing, — 

I would not live alway, 

No; welcome the tomb; 
Since Jesus has lain there, 

I dread not its gloom, &c. 

After this, death never appeared so 
terrific. Although, when on the brink 
of eternity (as has often been the case 
with me), an overwhelming sense of my 
unworthiness caused me well nigh to 
shudder at the thought of being suddenly 
summoned into the presence of a holy 
God ; yet relying implicitly on the infi- 
nite atonement of Christ, death had no 
fears for me, and I could exclaim with 
the sainted Paul, " 0, death where is thy 
sting; 0, grave where is thy victory !" 

The state of my health continued 
much as it had been for some time pre- 
vious, until March 1839, when I had an 
attack of inflammatory disease. My 
life was despaired of by my attending 
physician. Another physician having 



MABY RANKIN. 41 

called in one evening, some of my friends 
desired to know his opinion concerning 
my case. He informed them that it was 
hopeless ; nothing could be done to help 
me, and that I could not live past the 
turn of the night. This was on Friday 
evening. On Monday he called again, 
and remarked that he could not see the 
least possible change since he had called 
before ; and that he did not see how I 
could possibly live so long in that condi- 
tion without any visible change. 

During this attack, I experienced 
hights and depths in the love of God, 
to which I had hitherto been a stranger. 
Adopting an expression of Bunyan, "1 
felt as though I had attained unto the 
land of Buelah," from which I could be- 
hold the Celestial city, and hear music 
of more than earthly melody. And 
such was my desire to depart and be 
with Christ, that I could not bear to hear 
my friends express a desire for my re- 
covery. 

At the commencement of this attack, 
I lay for several hours in an unconscious 



42 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

state ; at least, so far as all around me 
was concerned. But to my spiritual vis- 
ion was disclosed Heaven with all its 
weight of glory, I have no suitable 
language with which to describe the glo- 
ries of that place which mortal eye hath 
not seen nor ear heard ; and which have 
never entered into the heart of man to 
conceive. 

But, although lingering on the verge 
of eternity for several days, the time of 
my departure had not yet come; and, 
therefore, I commenced to recover slow- 
ly, and continued improving, until I was 
restored to about the same condition in 
which I was previous to this attack. 
My health now continued about the same 
until the following May, when a strange 
physician, Dr. Green, having heard of 
the singular nature of my case, called to 
see me. After examining into my condi- 
tion, he said he thought I could be re- 
lieved, and offered his services for that 
purpose. My attending physician insist- 
ed that I should allow him to try his 
skill 9 as he could do nothing for me. After 



MAKY RANKIX. 43 

a great deal of persuasion, I finally con- 
sented. He pronounced my disease 
nothing more nor less than inflamma- 
tion of the spine ; and commenced treat- 
ing me accordingly. For more than a 
year I had to endure the excruciating pro- 
cesses of blistering, cupping, scarifying, 
cauterizing, and setons, of which he in- 
troduced no less than ten along the re- 
gion of the spine. But all appeared of 
no avail; and therefore, after attending 
me faithfully for about fifteen months, 
he gave me up, leaving me much in the 
same condition in which he found me. 

In this suffering state I lingered on, 
being sometimes better, and sometimes 
worse; nothing special occurring until 
June 1842. For some time previous I 
had been impressed with the idea that it 
was my duty to have an account of my 
afflictions and religious experience pub- 
lished. Of this impression I long tried 
to rid my mind ; but time only seemed 
to imprint the conviction more indellibly 
on my heart. Being unable to write my- 
self, and unacquainted with any person 



44 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

to whom I felt at liberty to express my 
sentiments freely, I thought this a suf- 
ficient reason for neglecting what other- 
wise seemed to me an imperative duty. 
A short time afterwards, the Rev. J. D. 
Willoughby suggested the matter to me 
for the first time. After some conversa- 
tion of a religious character which passed 
between us, he proposed to take notes ; 
to which I consented without much hesi- 
tation. 

I would here say, that to this friend I 
owe a lasting debt of gratitude, not only 
for his kindness to me in after years ; 
but for the benefit I derived from his so- 
ciety at that time. I have before re- 
marked, that I was naturally retired and 
reserved to such a degree that I scarcely 
could be induced to converse with any 
except a few confidential friends. But 
the kindness and sympathy manifested 
by this friend toward me, soon won my 
confidence and esteem to such an extent, 
that I felt no reluctance fully and freely 
to reveal my mind to him on any subject. 

In the latter part of May my friend 



MARY RANKIN. 45 

again visited me for the purpose of com- 
mitting to paper an account of my afflic- 
tions, and religious experience. 

After much prayer and self-examina- 
tion, I commenced dictating for him my 
narrative; and after we had finished it, 
I cannot express the relief I felt. The 
load that for some time had weighed me 
down, was removed, and I felt light and 
cheerful, and began to flatter myself 
that my mission on earth was finished. 
But, alas ! Little did I then think of 
the tedious years of affliction and suffer- 
ing that still awaited me ! 

The notes taken at this time, were af- 
terwards accidentally lost; and I again 
conceived the idea of abandoning the pub- 
lication of my history. But to this I 
could never feel fully reconciled. I had a 
great desire to be useful in some w r ay; 
and this appeared to be the only way in 
which I could likely accomplish that 
laudable end. Feeling a reluctance to 
undertake the task while my health 
would have permitted, it was deferred 
until I was again prostrated upon a bed 



46 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF MAEY RNAKX^. 

of affliction. And now, that I was again 
nearing the cold waters of Jordan, this 
long neglected duty weighed on my 
mind with great preponderance ; and I 
sought pardon, and covenanted solemnly 
with Grod, that if he would restore me 
sufficiently, I would no longer delay the 
matter. Not long after, I once more 
gained sufficient strength to dictate to a 
friend my ideas, who committed the 
same to paper. 

After discharging this duty, I again 
felt relieved, and willing to depart; but, 
as it appears, my suffering time was not 
yet o'er. An all-wise Grod, for reasons 
beyond the scan of mortals, ordered my 
destiny otherwise. And although His 
providence has often appeard mysterious 
to me, and his ways past finding out, I 
have endeavored to submit to the severe 
stroke of His unseen hand, with Chris- 
tian resignation and patience. 



CHAPTER III. 

TBE NARRATIVE OF MY AFFLICTIONS CONTINUED, 
NOW FREQUENTLY FELL INTO SPASMS. 

About the middle of June, 1842, I took 
worse with inflammation and enlargement 
of the liver, and for several weeks, every 
moment was expected to be my last. I 
was now first taken with spasms. These 
were not constitutional, but brought on 
by an accidental injury which I received. 
The first attack was caused by a person 
inconsiderately sitting down on the foot 
end of my bed, and pressing my injured 
foot so forcibly against the foot-board as 
to rupture a vein, and otherwise injure 
it. This affected my nervous system 
(which had always been very delicate), 
to such a degree, that the slightest noise 
would throw me into a spasm. The pain 
which I endured during these attacks was 
indescribable, and aggravated by the fact 
that I was perfectly sensible while they 

47 



48 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

lasted. I know of nothing better with 
which to compare them, than a cramp of 
the whole system, which would last from 
half an hour to an hour; and several times 
they lasted during three hours without 
cessation. 

After I first had spasms, the nervous 
plexus of the stomach became so irrita- 
ble (being sympathetically affected), that 
I was scarcely able to take any nourish- 
ment except lemonade or sweetened wa- 
ter, for nearly three months, and even 
that was often ejected shortly after 
taking it. At this time my system was 
also suffering from the effect of partial 
paralysis. No medical treatment afford- 
ed me any relief; — indeed it was almost 
impossible for medicine to be of any 
benefit, as it was immediately ejected 
from my stomach. 

I was now, for the first time, affected 
constitutionally by mercurial medicines. 
These were resorted to as the last remedy. 
One of my attendants, not being acquaint- 
ed, I suppose, with the nature of the medi- 
cine; to assuage my burning thirst, gave 



MAEY KANKIX. 49 

me a draught of nature's most refreshing 
beverage. The effect was almost electri- 
cal; for scarcely had it been quaffed, un- 
til my throat and tongue became so much 
inflamed that I could hardly swallow. 
Is one but those who have endured simi- 
lar sufferings can imagine my anguish. 
Yet as paralysis was now removed, my 
physician thought it was of some benefit. 
But my nervous irritability still contin- 
ued, from which I suffered much. To 
alleviate those sufferings, he resorted to 
opiates. But these, instead of quieting, 
only seemed to render my nerves doubly 
sensitive. I trust I fully appreciate the 
motives of my physician; but had these 
opiates produced their desired effect, 
they would more than likely have been 
administered to such an extent, as to ren- 
der my mind imbecile, and unfit for fu- 
ture mental effort. Thanks to that pe- 
culiar Providence, which made my con- 
stitution in this instance to resist the 
ordinary result produced by narcotic 
medicines. 

But the reader might desire to know 



50 AUTOBIOGEAPHY OF 

what my mental exercises, and religious 
enjoyments were during this severe and 
soul-trying attack. To this I can reply 
with delight, that my enjoyments were 
never better. I but awaited the glad 
summons "to depart and be with Christ," 
yet, at the same time, felt willing to be, 
or to do anything that God might require 
at my hands. During my severest pain 
and suffering, I frequently realized the 
greatest joys, and the richest blessings. 
Shortly after this, my nervous system 
became so extremely sensitive, that dur- 
ing a thunder storm which I remember, 
I became so affected by it, as to suffer 
the most excruciating pain. But, in the 
mean time, my enjoyments were exquis- 
ite; and so sensibly did I realize the 
supporting grace of God, that I felt to 
praise Him for His afflicting providence. 
I regard affliction as a kind teacher that 
has brought me nigh unto God. Through 
its influence I have sought and found 
blessings, which I might otherwise never 
have enjoyed. Oh ! how mysterious are 
the ways of God ! 



MAIIT KANKIN. 51 

My sufferings still increased, and it 
seemed as though faint and exhausted 
nature could not hold out much longer ; 
but through it all the Lord has brought 
me safe thus far. 

A strange physician, Dr. Burnet, having 
come into the neighborhood, and hearing 
of my case as an extraordinary one, call- 
ed to see me. With my consent, he in- 
stituted a very thorough examination, 
and while proceeding with it, a noise oc- 
curred, which brought on a spasm. Dur- 
ing its countinuance, he examined the 
foot in which I had received the injury; 
and found by pressure on the injured 
part, that the spasmodic action increas- 
ed : so that he concluded the spasms were 
occasioned from the injury ; and he there- 
fore proposed to cauterize the injured 
part. To this I objected, until my at- 
tending physician was consulted. He 
was therefore sent for, and being con- 
vinced that the spasms originated from 
the injury, he consented to the operation 
proposed. They accordingly made the 
application, and after enduring it six long 



52 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

hours ? it was removed. After the part 
acted on by the caustic, was separated 
from the healthy flesh, it was for the 
first time discovered that the thorn had 
not been extracted. The physician, anx- 
ious to convince himself that it was the 
veritable thorn, used instruments to re- 
move all the cauterized flesh ; but the 
pain which this operation occasioned, was 
so great as to throw me into a spasm, 
which lasted three hours. Imagine your 
entire system under the influence of 
cramp for that length of time, and then 
you have but a faint idea what my suf- 
ferings were. 

It was then thought by the physicians, 
that by destroying the nerves of the part 
affected, the nervous irritability would 
cease; and they accordingly applied 
aquafortis, (nitric acid,) but it failed to 
accomplish the desired result. Thev 
then concluded, that nothing but ampu- 
tation of the injured limb would relieve 
me. This they endeavored to keep from 
me as long as possible, although they 
had suggested to me the propriety of tak- 



31AEY EAXKIX. 53 

lug off the injured toe. To this, after some 
deliberation and reflection, I consented ; 
feeing willing to submit to almost anv 
thing that would likely prove successful. 
But when the physicians met for the pur- 
pose, they concluded that it was neces- 
sary to amputate the limb. When they 
made known to me their convictions, the 
idea itself was almost too much for me 
to endure. When my kind attending 
physician, Dr. Hoffman, with deep emo- 
tion, made known to me their conclusion; 
my rei)lv was, "JY0/ no! rather let me die 
— you shall never amputate my limb ! " He 
endeavored to lay before me the nature 
of my case, — said that it was impossible 
for nature to endure long what I was 
then suffering, and that it must shortly 
result in death, or paralyze my entire 
system. But nothing that he could say 
would induce me to °'ive mv consent. 
Different persons, who were present, then 
spoke to me on the same subject, but to 
no purpose. My mother, who also was 
not informed of tlieir intention, until the 
moment thev were readv to perform the 



54 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

operation, at first was unwilling; but 
after being assured that it was the 
only means likely to save my life, she 
gave her consent. The propriety of her 
speaking to me was then suggested, 
which she attempted to do. With eyes 
suffused with tears, she approached my 
bedside, and in a low and tender tone, 
articulated my name ; but proceeding no 
further, her emotion told me all. The 
composure which I had maintained until 
this moment, at once forsook me, and I 
burst into tears, exclaiming, "Oh, moth- 
er, can it be possible ! Have you given 
your consent?" The surgeon, Dr. J. 
Christy, then spoke, requesting them "to 
say nothing more to me at present, — he 
feared I might become to much excited.' 7 
After being silent for a short time, he 
again addressed me, saying, "they were 
anxious to relieve me, and that amputa- 
tion was their only hope. If I consented 
to that nothing should be left undone 
that could be done for me. If not, all 
had been done that medical skill could 
do, and he now awaited my reply*' 1 I 



MARY KA7S T KIX. 55 

answered, "I cannot submit." He then 
said, "He supposed they would have to 
leave without being able to do anything 
forme." My reply was, "Do so." They 
all then left my room except my faithful 
and sympathizing friend, Dr. H. After 
being left alone, I made known to him 
the reason why I could not consent. Not 
that I feared the pain, for I supposed 
that could not be much more intense, 
than what I had already endured. But 
I feared it might be displeasing in the 
sight of my Heavenly Father ; and as I 
thought it scarcely possible to survive 
the fearful operation, I could not bear the 
idea of meeting God under such circum- 
stances. He endeavored to remove my 
scruples; but with no success. I at length 
proposed to make it a matter of prayer; 
to which he consented. After calling in 
the family and the other two physicians, 
we united in prayer. Dr. Hoffman, and 
others led in prayer. In view of the 
peculiar circumstances in which I was 
placed, if ever the prayer of faith ascend- 
ed from the altar of my heart, — it wm 



56 AUTO-EI0GEAPHY OF MAEY RANKIN. 

at that time. I prayed God, that if con- 
sistent with His holy will, I might he 
reconciled to the operation; and that He 
would grant me assisting grace in that 
trying moment. And never did I re- 
ceive a more speedy and satisfactory an- 
swer to prayer. It w as during the pray- 
er made by friend Reed, that my fears 
forsook me, and I became reconciled to 
my strange destiny — felt that G-od would 
not be displeased with me if I were to 
submit ; and if called hence during the 
operation, it would be "great gain to me." 
I would then be freed from all my suf- 
ferings and pain, and enjoy that sweet 
"rest prepared for the people of God." 

After prayers were concluded, I told 
them that I was now reconciled, — they 
might proceed with the operation as soon 
as they saw proper; which they did on 
the evening of the 18th of October 1842, 
some six years after the accident hap- 
pened. 



CHAPTER IV. 

AN ACCOUNT OF THE AMPUTATION. 

After all things were made ready, and 
they had placed the limb in a position 
for amputation, I requested them to sing 5 
that good old hymn commencing, " And 
let this feeMe body fail/ 7 &e. After they 
had concluded sm'einfe;, the surgeon pro* 
ceecled to place the tourniquet around 
the limb ; and although not a converted 
man at this time, he by way of encour- 
agement told me to " brace every nerve,, 
for you have nothing to lose and every 
thing to gain." As related by him after- 
wards, I looked at him and smiled,, say- 
ing, " My nerves are braced, but not in 
my own strength; I depend alone upon 
the grace of God for support ; if consis- 
tent with His will ? He can bring me 
through this trying scene; if not, I am 
prepared for any result/ ' He turned away 
and sent another physician to place the 

57 



&8 AUTO-BIOGBAPIIY OF 

instrument When referring to the cir- 
cumstance afterwards, he said that noth- 
ing had ever made such an impression 
on his mind as my composure at that 
critical moment. 

The physicians proposed to administer 
some opiate or stimulant, that would en- 
able me the better to endure the opera- 
tion, but I refused to take even wine, 
saying that I now felt reconciled, and 
did not fear it. I did not wish to be 
lulled to sleep ; for if I died during the 
operation, I wished to have my senses 
about me at the time^ and not pass into 
the world of spirits in a state of uncon- 
sciousness. 

The surgeon, Dr. J, Christy, assisted 
by Drs. Burnet and Hoffman^ then pro- 
ceeded to amputate. But I will not at- 
tempt to describe the pain occasioned by 
the operation — to be known it must be 
felt. It was but twelve minutes from the 
time the incision was made until the limb 
was dressed. This, to the observer, or the 
reader, may seem a very short time; but 
to one who is suffering the pain, it seems 



MARY RANKIN. 59 

far otherwise. My first impulse after 
the introduction of the knife, was, lean- 
not endure it — I will tell them to desist. 
But again grace was triumphant, and I 
felt a sweet sinking into the will of 
Providence. JNTever did I realize more 
powerfully the fulfillment of that blessed 
promise, "My grace shall be sufficient 
for thee." His arms of lore were 
underneath me, and by them I w r as 
upheld in this trying moment. Fancy 
to yourself one, who is prostrated upon a 
bed of affliction, and unable to raise her 
voice above a whisper, or to move a 
hand from off the bed w T here it is ly- 
ing, consenting to undergo such a pain- 
ful process, and you can then form some 
idea of the supporting pow r er of that 
grace w r hich sustained me in that dark- 
est hour of all my trials. 

I was afterwards informed by my phy- 
sician, that if a spasm had taken place 
during the operation, they could not 
have taken up the arteries, and life must 
inevitably soon have become extinct. 
But of this I was sensible at the time, 



60 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 



and therefore did not expect to be living 
when it should be completed. Oh, the 
thought of be-in? ushered in a moment 
into the presence of a Being so holy as 
God ! To me at that time, how awful and 
yet sublime! The transporting thought 
of being at once released from such 
a life of suffering, was soul-cheering. 
But Providence ordered it otherwise ; a 
spasm which they dreaded did not occur, 
and I was brought through in safety, a 
living monument of His amazing mercy. 
In relation to the manner in which I 
bore the operation, I can say nothing. 
My mind w T as so deeply engaged at the 
time, that when it was remarked to me 
afterwards, that I moaned but once, I re- 
plied, "As to whether I moaned or not, 
I cannot say ; the only thing that I dis- 
tinctly recollect, was the pains, and the 
manner in which I was supported." This 
may perhaps be better understood by a 
remark of one of the physicians, "That 
the gentlemen present did not behold 
the scene with as much composure as I 
bore the operation." There were no la- 



MARY RAXXIX. 61 

dies present, except my friends, Mrs. 
Graham and Miss Woods. Mother hav- 
ing been forbidden the room, remained out 
until she heard the saw ing of the bone, 
when, true to the instincts of a mother's 
love, she rushed to my bedside, and re- 
mained until the operation was finished. 

I will now draw the curtain around 
this trying scene, to which my mind 
never reverts without feelings of the 
deepest emotion. Even at this late day, 
I cannot think of it, without touching a 
fibre that seems to vibrate throughout 
my entire nervous system. And I now, 
as ever feel to say, "Xot unto me, not 
unto me," but unto God be all the praise 
for enabling me to endure it. 

As stated before, I was very much re- 
duced at this time ; and the loss of blood 
from the amputation, reduced me still 
more. But as was expected by my phy- 
sicians, the spasms ceased after the am- 
putation. My nerves were still very 
sensitive, however, and I frequently 
fainted from the slightest noise; and 
sometimes from mere exhaustion. My 



62 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY Oi< 

physicians thought it would be almost 
impossible for me to survive the second- 
ary symptoms, which usually occur aft- 
er amputation ; for scarcely had I re- 
covered from one spell of syncope, till I 
would relapse into another. They en- 
deavored to administer stimulants, but 
the nerves of my stomach sympathized 
so much with the wound of amputation, 
that they became so extremely irritable 
that everything which I attempted to 
take was immediately rejected. And to 
aggravate my condition, the constitution- 
al effects of the mercury which had been 
administered some three or four months 
previously, were re-produced to the same 
extent as when first administered. Mv 
situation at this time can be better im- 
agined than described. 

Owing to my great physical prostra- 
tion and lack of vitality, the wound was 
nine weeks in closing ; and no sooner 
was this done, than my system was 
thrown into an inflammatory condition, 
and my life again brought to the verge 
of the grave. But through the bless- 



lag of Providence, and the attention of 
my physician and friends, I was once 
more brought safely through these deep 
waters of affliction. My health now con- 
tinued gradually to improve for several 
months, and nothing of more than ordi- 
nary importance occurred, except the 
following incident : 

In July, 1843, a near neighbor of ours 
met with a sad accident, which resulted 
in his death a week afterwards. This 
circumstance affected me much; because, 
when it was made known to him a few 
hours before his death, that his physician 
considered his case fatal, he found him- 
self unprepared for his change. But 
feeling desirous still to make an effort, 
he begged that a minister might be sent 
for, and some friends called in to pray 
for him, which was immediately done, 
and he became deeply engaged for him- 
self. So intense was his agony, and so 
earnest his efforts, that occasionally I 
could distinctly hear his groans in the 
room where I lay; which was only a short 
distance from the house in which he 






64 AUTO-BIOGItAPHY OF 

lived. 0, how my soul was drawn out 
In prayer to Grod for him ! It seemed to 
me that I would willingly die in his stead, 
if that would restore him, that he might 
make his peace with God. But the de- 
cree had gone forth, and die he must; 
but not, as I learned, without a hope of 
heaven. 

Notwithstanding my general health 
was considerably improved, my nerves 
still continued quite sensitive; the slightest 
noise causing me great sufferings; but the 
spasms did not return. At this time we 
lived contiguous to the highway, and the 
noise of passing vehicles affected me 
much; and consequently my plrysician 
suggested the propriety of removing me 
to a more retired place, hoping that I 
might improve more rapidly. This was 
done in January 1844. The weather was 
mild ; yet, a snow which had fallen a day 
or two previously, and which had crusted 
made a harsh and disagreeable noise be- 
neath the feet of those who carried me, 
(for I was still so reduced that I had to 
be borne on a bier,) this noise, together 



MARY RANKIN. 65 

with the fatigue^ was rather more than 
my sensi tive nerves could bear. Having 
reached our destiny, I now for the first 
time since the amputation, was affected 
with spasmodic symptoms. These symp- 
toms continued for some time, but were 
not so severe as when I first took spasms. 
With the exception of this great nervous 
irritability, my health was improved by 
the change of residence. I remained 
convalescent for some two years; and 
during this time I once more became able 
to read most of the time ; and this was 
my chief delight. My reading was con- 
fined exclusively to Biblical literature. 
The following are some of the books 
which I read, namely : Clarke's, Ben- 
son's, and Scott's Commentaries; the 
Cottage Bible, Ripley's Notes on the 
Four Gospels, Luther on Gralatians, 
Buck's and Watson's Theological Dic- 
tionaries, Smucker's Popular Theology, 
the History of the Reformation, and 
many other religious works. The lives 
of Dr. Clarke, Wesley, Luther, Fletcher, 
and others afforded me much encour- 
5 




6Q AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

agement and edification. Also the 
writings of Baxter, Doddridge, Bunyan, 
Edwards and Headly were very pre- 
cious to my soul, on account of the sweet 
strain of piety which pervaded every page. 

In June, 1846, I had a severe attack 
of catarrhal fever, and inflammation of 
the lungs. For several weeks my life 
was despaired of. Aneighb or who called 
in, remarked that she had seen people 
die who did not seem half so low as I 
then was. 

To illustrate the remarkable effect that 
medicine has on my system, I will ad- 
vert to a circumstance that occurred at 
this time. Being the season of the year 
when flies are troublesome, especially in 
a sick room, mother made application to 
my physician for something to destroy 
them. He accordingly gave her a prep- 
aration of arsenic, which was placed on 
a window, at the head of my bed. It had 
not been there long until I felt a peculiar 
sickening sensation, and shortly after- 
wards was attacked with vomiting, which 
continued for several hours. Amidst 



MAEY KAXKIX. 67 

the excitement, the poisonous prepara- 
tion was removed to another room. My 
physician. Dr. J. Wolf, by this time hav- 
ing come in, made every effort to check 
the vomiting: and finally succeeded. I 
suspected at the time that it was occa- 
sioned bv the arsenic, but said nothing 
to any person about it, until the second 
day after, when it was again brought in, 
and put in the same place. I now again 
felt the symptoms returning, and inquir- 
ed of mv mother what she was using; to 
destroy the flies ; stating, that whenever 
it was placed on the window, I experi- 
enced such peculiar sensations, and a 
disposition to vomiting. It was imme- 
diately removed, but not without having 
occasioned sickness, though not with such 
severity as before. 

It was several months before I began 
to recover from the prostration occasion- 
ed bv the fever. I then be^an to im- 
prove slowly, and continued improving 
until I was again able to resume my 
reading. My nerves, however, still con- 
tinued as sensitive as formerly. 



68 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

Previous to this, as before remarked, 
my reading was confined entirely to 
Biblical and religious literature. But 
now having some of Dick's works placed 
in my hands, I became so much interest- 
ed in them, that I perused his entire 
writings (at that time eight volumes). 
The delight and benefit derived from the 
reading of these works, induced me to 
take up other studies. And by the assist- 
ance of some kind friends, I made some 
proficiency in Grammar, Geography, 
Philosophy, Chemistry; Botany, As- 
tronomy, Physiology, Anatomy and Hy- 
gieine. I also read Watts' Logic, and 
his work on the mind. Some may in- 
quire, "Why such a change in my read- 
ing ? Had my Bible and religious books 
become old and insipid?" No, not at 
all. My precious Bible, book of books, 
was ever new, and ever dear to me. 
After reading it through, by course, more 
than a dozen times, it still was a fountain 
of information that I had never fathom- 
ed, and a source of pleasure that I had 
never exhausted: — the man of my coun- 






MAKY HAS KIN. 69 

sel, the solace of mv heart, and my 
guide through this wilderness of sorrow ! 
I felt, however, that God had given me 
a mind capable of unlimited improve- 
ment, and that it was my duty to acquire 
all the useful information I could. Xor 
must it be supposed that I abandoned 
my religious reading, while pursuing 
other studies. For daily, when able, I 
read a portion of God's word, and medi- 
tated on the same. Indeed I would have 
felt as if that day had been thrown away, 
on which my Bible had not been read 
and studied. 

I took great delight in beholding the 
grand sceneries of nature, and studying 
her laws. And instead of leading my 
mind away from God, they had a tenden- 
cy to bring me nearer to Him. Being 
passionately fond of flowers, it always 
afforded me great pleasure to be present- 
ed with a boquet. So, being alone one 
beautiful Sabbath morning, after having 
spent a night of suffering, I cast my eye 
around to fix it on something to draw 
my attention from my sufferings, when 



70 AUTO-BIOGElPHY OF 

it rested on a beautiful bouquet placed 
in a glass of water. The flowers of 
which it was composed were tulips, 
which are of the species (Botanists say) 
that require sleep. To all appearances 
these had gone to sleep forever. But 
now when aurora ushered in a blushing 
morn, they awoke to newness of life, and 
unfolded their delicately penciled leaflets 
to the golden rays of the morning sun ; 
regaling me with their odoriferous fra- 
grance, and delighting me with their ex- 
quisite beauty. And while I gazed ad- 
miringly upon them, they seemed to ad- 
dress me as follows: "Thou behoklest 
our beauty, and inhalest our perfume, 
and art regaled ; why then art thou sad 
and repining? We too have been re- 
moved from our native position, that 
thou mightest be delighted with our 
beauty, and regaled by our fragrance. 
We have cheered thee on thy journey to 
the tomb. From us, therefore, learn to 
glorify God in thy afflictions. Be patient, 
endure hardness as a good soldier, and 
like us, thy destiny will soon be fulfill- 



MAEY RANKIN. 71 

eel." And thus even those humble flow- 
ers have been to me a silent but an effect- 
ual monitor. 

In May, 1847, I had a visit from my 
friend W. whom I had not seen for four 
years. I was still quite ill, and suffering 
from nervous debility; in view of which 
he suggested the use of the galvanic bat- 
tery ; remarking that he had mentioned 
my case to several eminent physicians, 
all of whom, after hearing a statement 
of it, agreed in their opinion, that the 
battery would be likely to benefit me 
more than any other remedy that could 
be resorted to. When he first mention- 
ed it, I thought it useless to give it a 
trial, saying, that so much had been tried, 
and all to so little purpose, that I had 
almost come to the conclusion, not to try 
anything more. He still insisted that I 
should try this one remedy yet. I at 
length consented, and through the gener- 
osity of kind friends a battery was pro- 
cured; and under the direction of Dr. 
Hoffman, I commenced using it the 
following November. For a time I _ap- 



72 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

peared worse after using it, and insisted 
on abandoning it. But my physician 
urged me to use it a while longer, which 
I accordingly did. In February follow- 
ing, I began to notice that I was being 
benefitted by it. My nerves were not 
now so easily excited by noise as they 
had been ; and by the ensuing April, the 
spasms had entirely ceased. My gener- 
al health was also so much improved, 
that in May I was able to write; which I 
had not been able to do for ten years 
previously. The gratitude which I felt 
towards Mr. W., who, through the bless- 
ing of God, was instrumental in bringing 
about this great change, may be seen in 
the following letter addressed to him 
about this time : 

J. D. W . f Dear Sir: — Pardon the 

liberty which I have taken to communi- 
cate a few lines to you. The debt of 
gratitude, which I owe to you forbids 
me to remain silent any longer. 

I suppose you recollect how extremely 
sensitive my nerves were, and how the 
slightest noise affected them when you 



MARY EANKXX. 73 

were here. And now, when I tell you, 
that I have not had a spasm for the last 
eight weeks, and that my general health 
has so much improved, that I am able to 
be raised in my bed almost to a sitting 
position, you can perhaps form some 
idea of the relief I have found in the use 
of the battery. And be assured, I feel 
myself under the greatest obligations to 
you, for the interest you took in procur- 
ing it. 

When I contrast my present situation 
with the past, and think of the excrucia- 
ting pain, which I endured with the 
spasms ; and now that I am entirely re- 
lieved of them, — the change is so great 
that it appears almost like a pleasing 
dream. And when I consider that you, 
through the blessing of Grod, have been 
instrumental in bringing about this 
change, — truly my heart overflows with 
gratitude to you. To you, I am indebt- 
ed for the great relief which I now enjoy. 
Had it not been for your kindness, and 
the interest which you took in my case^ 
I might still doubtless be suffering more 



74 AUTOBIGGKAPHY OF 

than tongue can describe. Under a sense 
of all this, what can I say ? How shall 
I express my feelings ? ! that He by 
whom it was said, " As ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these little ones, 
ye have done it unto me," may reward 
you both in Spiritual and temporal 
blessings, is the desire of mv heart. 

I must confess the use of the battery 
in ni} r case, has far surpassed my most 
sanguine expectations. When you first 
recommended it, I thought it almost use- 
less to give it a trial, — did not think it 
possible, that it could afford me the re- 
lief it has done. We still continue its 
use. 

Dr. H. is still attending me, and ad- 
ministers such medicine as he thinks 
necessary. He says if I continue im- 
proving as I have been doing for some 
time past, I will shortly be able to sit up. 
Of this, however, I do not flatter myself 
very much. True, at present, the pros- 
pect of recovery is encouraging; but we 
do not know what is in the future. I 
feel, however, perfectly resigned to the 



MARY RANKIN. 75 

will of my Heavenly Father — have no 
will of my own — it is wholly lost in His. 
If it is His will that I shall recover, I 
hope to spend my days, be they few or 
many, to the honor and glory of God. 
And should it not be His will, still cheer- 
fully can I say, "even so Father, if so it 
seemeth good in thy sight." For, al- 
though at present these afFiictions may 
not be joyous, but grievous, yet doubtless 
in the end, I shall find that they have all 
been for my good. 

My religious enjoyments are good. I 
spend my time chiefly in reading, medi- 
tation and prayer. I seek my happiness 
in God ; from Him alone proceed all my 
enjoyments. I have wholly dedicated 
myself to Him. Hitherto His grace has 
been sufficient, and I feel to trust Him 
for time to come. I want to " compre- 
hend with all the saints, the hight, and 
length, and depth, and breadth of perfect 
love in Christ Jesus." Bless the Lord 
for a full and free salvation ! Oh ! my 
soul it is enough ! Jesus is ail and in all! 
Adieu for the present. Allow me to sub- 



76 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

scribe myself your truly grateful, and 
ever sincere friend. Mary. 

Shortly after writing the above, I re- 
ceived the following answer from Mr. W: 

Sister Mary: — Yours of May the 29th, 
was received yesterday, and it afforded 
me more pleasure than any letter that 
ever came into my hands. It made me 
nearly frantic with delight. I had not 
even dreamed of }^our writing me a let- 
ter. I could not have hoped that your 
nerves could have been so quieted in so 
short a time. Your case was an extraor- 
dinary one. But now I have no doubt 
of your recovery — your entire recovery. 
I wish you to take notes of the different 
stages of improvement in your health. 

I have shown your letter to a number 
of persons who were astonished beyond 
measure, when they learned the particu- 
lars of your case. In your case the gal- 
vanic battery has achieved wonders, — or 
a victory for its use in some diseases. 

I hope to see you some time this fall ; 
and it will afford me a world of joy to 
see you sitting up. Fear not, Mary, 



MARY RANKIN. 77 

there is a day of health approaching your 
bed. It will bid you walk forth and en- 
joy life as others do. You may yet see 
the sun, gaze upon the silver moon, and 
spend your time in numbering the glitter- 
ing stars of evening. The balmy breeze 
of morn, and the cooling winds of even, 
will doubtless soon witness your rambles 
amongst the forest trees of vour own na- 
tive mountain. And as they meet, 
they'll embrace you. At their touch 
disease will flee awav, and the Prince of 
Health reign throughout your system. 
Then your heart for joy shall leap, and 
your soul sing like the nightingale, with 
real gladness. 

I need not exhort you to serve the 
Lord ; that I know you will do. My ad- 
vice is, continue the use of the battery. 
Dr. Hoffman, however, will doubtless 
give you the necessary directions* * * * 

In haste, Yours respectfully, 

J. D. W. 



CHAPTER V, 

In June following I was able for the 
first time in ten years to sit up, whilst 
my bed was being made. But being 
still very w r eak, the exertion quite over- 
came me, and caused a rush of blood to 
my head, which necessitated me to un- 
dergo the operation of cupping that night, 
by which I was so much reduced, that it 
was some weeks before they attempted 
to lift me up again. As soon as I had re- 
covered sufficiently, I addressed my 
friend W. in the following lines : — 

Rev. Sir: — Your favor of June the 
13th, was duly received, for which please 
accept my thanks. It is with great 
pleasure that I again assume my pen, to 
inform you of the improved, and still 
improving condition of my health. My 
nerves have become quite settled. There 
is scarcely any of that extreme sensitive- 
ness i*emaining; and consequently the 



AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF MARY RANKIN. 79 

noise does not affect me as it did. I 
have not had a spasm since the 9th of 
April, nor are there any symptoms of 
them remaining. 

On the 20th of last month, Dr. H., and 
a number of other friends being present, 
I was lifted out of bed, and for the first 
time, in almost ten years, sat in a chair, 
whilst my bed w^as being made. As 
might be expected, I became quite sick 
and faint, and immediately had to be laid 
in bed again ; and for several days after- 
wards I was much w r orse. Since that, 
however, they have had me up again ; 
but I did not become so sick as at first ; 
but it still fatigued me very much. I 
am now taking tonic medicines ; and still 
continue the use of the battery daily. 

Whilst I take pleasure in informing 
you of the improved state of my health, 
allow me also to tell you of the present 
state of my mental energies. I can now 
read and meditate for hours at a time, 
without suffering mental fatigue and 
languor as I used to do. 0, how thank- 
ful I feel to my Heavenly Father for this 



I 



80 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

blessing. I can now contemplate God 
more in His goodness, His loving kind- 
ness, and His tender mercies towards me 
than ever. I know that it has been 
grace, and grace alone which has support- 
ed me during my long and severe afflic- 
tions. I have realized for myself the 
meaning of the Apostle when he says, " I 
glory in tribulation, knowing that tribu- 
lation worketh patience; and patience 
hope; and hope maketh not ashamed, 7 ' 
&c. And I am therefore fully resolved, 
that whether " I live or die, I will be the 
Lord's." Mother wishes to be remem- 
bered to you. We shall be very happy 
to receive a visit from you this fall. 
Please write to me soon, it always affords 
me much pleasure to hear from you. 
With profound gratitude and respect, 
Yours, Mary. 

To this my friend W. wrote me the fol- 
lowing answer : 

December , 27th, 1849. 

Sister Mary: — Yours of the 29th has 
just been received. All your letters are 
of such a character that I am fond of 



MARY RASKIN. 81 

reading and answering them : and your 
former circumstances and your present 
situation both combine to make you and 
your correspondence an object of interest 
to me. I saw you when you were help- 
less in the extreme, — when even an in- 
fant had more strength than yourself. I 
saw you when your nerves were even 
shocked at the song of the bird, by the 
rustling of a leaf, or the humming of the 
bee. Then you were not permitted to 
look ~upon the sun by day, or to count 
the stars by night. Disease had bound 
you in fetters, locked you in your cham- 
ber, and stretched you on your weary 
bed. But now his fetters are broken — 
you are free ; and when the dawn of day 
appears, you may sit at your window, 
and catch the mellow beams of the morn 
as they come from the east to bless the 
place Mary calls her home. And now 
when the nights are cold and the clouds 
are gone, you may look up to the skies, 
and count the lamps that seem to be hung 
out for the contemplation of mortals here 
below. 

6 



82 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

When the summer comes, and clouds 
gather, and thunders roar, and lightnings 
flash, you can look with pleasure on the 
gathering storm ; — hear the awful thun- 
ders as they sound, and see the livid 
lightning as it plays from cloud to cloud, 
or quickly darts down to earth. 

When I was with you last, I prophe- 
sied that you would yet be able to take 
a walk along your rural mountain side. 
Your present situation seems to promise 
the fulfillment of my prediction. * * * 

How pleasant would it be to you, to 
roam through nature's garden in quest of 
flowers, and listen to the murmuring song 
of the rippling stream that flows down the 
mountain side. Or to be charmed by 
the sweet note of the innocent bird that 
lives in its wild native woods. 

Mary, be of good cheer, days of happi- 
ness and comfort yet await you. Your 
tongue shall yet sing the song of joy and 
gladness. Hope, like a rainbow, shall 
crown your head, whilst joy and peace 
shall attend your every step. Then, in 
love to Grod and good will to man, you 



maby rankis. 83 

shall spend your days, And when the 
time is come that the morning sun and 
the evening stars no more shall meet 
your mortal eye ;— you shall sleep in 
Jesus. After being refreshed by the 
slumbers of the grave, you shall awake 
in newness of life, and never more taste 
sickness or death. Should we then 
meet, we shall never part; but join the 
chorus of the skies, and sing our happy 
song when sun and stars are no more. 
Remember me to your mother and 
friends. Write soon. 

Ever your friend, J. D. W. 
Shortly after I first got able to sit up, 
an old gentleman one day Ccilled to see 
me, and after speaking of the improved 
state of my health, interrogated me as to 
whether I thought, if I were restored, I 
could again mingle with the world, and 
continue so resigned to the will of Provi- 
dence as I had been during my illness. 
After hesitating a moment, I replied, that 
"I thought I could," adding that % } cer- 
tainly that grace which was able to sup- 
port me under so long and severe affiic- 



84 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

tions, would be able to keep me when in 
health." I further told him if I thought 
that the restoration of my health would 
lead me to forget that God, who had so 
kindly supported me during my suffer- 
ings, if I had my choice, I would rather 
suffer out my three score years and ten, 
as I had been doing, than to t>e disloyal 
to my Lord. But of this I had no fears, 
believing that there is no circumstance 
in life in which we could not serve God, 
if we were inclined to do so. This led to 
quite a lengthy conversation on the na- 
ture of that faith, which gives us the vic- 
tory over sin and temptation. At the 
close of our conversation, he said he 
hoped it would not be in vain, as he had 
been for some time anxious to obtain that 
grace, which, (to adopt the language of 
Paul,) would enable him to overcome 
"those roots of bitterness which are con- 
tinually springing up in the heart, (such 
as anger, &c), and for this reason he had 
called to converse with me on the sub- 
ject, believing that I had experienced 
those things for myself." 



MARY RANKIN. 85 

About this time my highly esteemed, 
and now sainted friend Dr. H., wrote to 
me, requesting me to address a line to 
one whose salvation lay near to his 
heart. The following postscript served 
to lead out the subjoined letter: — 

P. S. "T. talks of writing to you. 
He often speaks of you and says, if ever 
there was a Christian in the world, you 
are one. You will confer a favor on me 
by writing to him, and giving him some 
counsel. Give him a sound lesson. He 
is somewhat disobedient; runs about in 
bad company; and does not read his 
Bible as much as he ought." 

Your friend, . 

In complying with the request of my 
friend, I addressed the following lines: — 

To T. — My Dear young friend: — Hav- 
ing, through the blessing of God, so far 
recovered as to be able to write; I have 
concluded to improve the passing mo- 
ments by addressing a few lines to you. 
Feeling deeply interested for your well- 
being both in time and in eternity ; and 
being aware of the many snares which 



86 AUTO-BIOGIlArHY OF 

beset the slippery paths of youth, I have 
thought, dear T., that perhaps some 
warning and counsel from me, as a friend, 
would be received as a kindness. I hope 
at least, that you will take no offense at 
anything I may say. For as a Christian, 
who feels deeply interested in you, I 
must use great plainness in the discharge 
of my duty. 

In the first place then, as Satan mostly 
commences with the young, to induce 
them to be disobedient to their parents, 
allow me, my dear young friend, to ask 
you a few plain and serious questions. 
Are you obedient to your parents ? As 
Providence has favored you with relig- 
ious parents, do you love, honor, and obey 
them? Do vou render a cheerful obedi- 
ence to all their commands ? and endeav- 
or, all that in you lieth, to repay them 
for their great trouble and kindness, in 
taking care of, and watching over you in 
your infantile and youthful days ? May 
I not indulge the hope that you do? 
But if not, 0, remember that God in His 
Holy Word, has strictly commanded 



MARY BANKIN. 87 

this important duty. In Exodus, Chap. 
20: 12, we read the following command: 
"Honor thy father and thy mother, that 
thy days may be long upon the land, 
which the Lord thy Grod giveth thee." 
Paul says, Eph. Chap. 6: 1-3, " Children 
obey your parents in the Lord, Honor 
thy father and thy mother (which is the 
first commandment with promise), that 
it may be well with thee, and that thou 
mayest live long on earth." And again, 
in Coll. Chap. 3: 20, Paul says, "Chil- 
dren obey your parents in all things, for 
this is well pleasing to the Lord." Since, 
then, this duty is so explicitly command- 
ed in the Scriptures, I hope, dear T., if 
you have been remiss heretofore, that 
you will be so no more. Resolve now, 
to be an obedient, kind and dutiful son ; 
a loving, agreeable and affectionate 
brother. But this you cannot do of your- 
self. You must ask God to give you 
grace to keep His commands, both in re- 
gard to loving Him and your earthly 
parents. And this He will do ; for in 
Matt. Chap. 21: 22, Pie says, "All 



88 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

things whatsoever ye shall ask in pray- 
er, believing, ye shall receive." 

In the above I have endeavored to 
show you that by disobeying your earth- 
ly parents, you likewise disobey your 
Heavenly Father; because you break 
one of His most positive commands. 
And as a persistence in a sin, (which I 
flatter myself you are not guilty of,) 
would have a tendency to lead you into 
many other vices, — (which if formed in 
youth will more than likely remain 
through life,) — I entreat you, to keep a 
strict watch over yourself, and indulge 
in no known sin. And if you wish to be- 
come a good, useful, and respectable man, 
remember, now is the time to form that 
character. But to do this, you must 
avoid bad company; for the company 
which you keep, will have a great influ- 
ence to form your character. Be your 
morals ever so good ; bad company will 
soon corrupt them. Paul says, 1 Cor. 15: 
33, "Be not deceived; evil communica- 
tions corrupt good manners-" And fear- 
ing that you might be led into this habit, 



MARY RANKIX, 89 

as persona of your age frequently are, I 
will therefore advise you of the company 
which should be avoided, by a few rules 
which I have selected for that purpose. 
1st. Avoid those who ridicule their pa- 
rents, or disobey their commands. 2d. 
Those who scoff at religion. 3d. Those 
who are profane or use filthy language. 
4th. Those who are unfaithful, play tru- 
ant, and waste their time in idleness. 
5th. Those who are of a quarrelsome 
temper, and apt to get into difficulties 
with others, 6th. Those who are addict- 
ed to lying and stealing, 7th. Those 
who are of a cruel disposition. The com- 
pany of those, who have any of the above 
sinful and wicked ways, would be very 
injurious to you. And if you wish to be- 
come good and useful to society, you 
must seek the company of good and use- 
ful individuals; and spend the most of your 
leisure time in reading good and useful 
books. Remember, that it is when per- 
sons waste their precious time in idleness, 
that Satan, the great adversary of souls, 
is the busiest. And taking the advan- 



90 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

tage of them at such times, will more 
easily lead them astray, by tempting 
them to do many things which they 
would not do if they were employed, 
either in reading or some other useful 
thing. And above all, do not neglect the 
reading of your Bible. Let not a day 
pass without reading a portion of it. 
But do not read it, and then lay it down 
to think no more about it; but read, 
and then think of what you have read, 
praying God for the aid of the Holy 
Spirit to enable you to understand it. 

By way of encouragement, allow me to 
add a few passages of Scripture. Paul 
says to Timothy, 2Epis.3: 15-17, "From 
a child thou hast known the holy Scrip- 
tures, which are ablo to make thee wise 
unto Salvation, through faith which is in 
Christ Jesus/' "All Scripture is given 
by inspiration of God, and is profitable 
for doctrine, for reproof for correction, 
for instruction in righteousness, that the 
man of God may be perfect, thoroughly 
furnished unto all good works." Again, 
John 5: 39 ? Jesus says, "Search the 



MARY EANKIN. 91 

Scriptures, for in them ye think ye have 
eternal life; and they are they which tes- 
tify of me." Do not think, dear friend, 
that because you are young, it is too soon 
to begin to serve the Lord ; or that there 
is time enough hereafter. Remember, 
that the young die as well as the old ! 
Life is uncertain; but death is certain! 
and therefore you cannot commence 
making preparation for death too soon. 
God has promised that " they that seek 
Him early shall find Him." And in 
Eccl. 12: 1, "Remember now thy Creator 
in the days of thy youth," &c. There is 
a flexibility of mind in youth, which is 
of great importance in seeking religion ; 
because it renders them more susceptible 
of good impressions; — and hence they 
are more likely to turn to the Lord in 
youth, than when they become old and 
hardened in sin. And therefore I hope 
you will not let this favorable opportuni- 
ty pass by unimproved. 0, seek the 
Lord whilst " He may be found, and call 
upon him whilst He is near ! " 

I suppose, dear T., you would wish to 



92 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

repent and become religious, at least, 
some day, before you die. If so, you 
should commence to-day, — to-morrow is 
none of yours — it is yet in futurity ; and 
"no one knoweth what a day may bring 
forth." Do not think as many do, that 
if you would become religious, you would 
then haye no pleasure. JSTo : for I speak 
from experience, when I say, it is only 
then, that you will know what real sub- 
stantial pleasure is. The pleasures of 
the world are at best transitory. They 
may serve to divert the mind for the mo- 
ment; but they soon pass away, and 
leave nought but a guilty conscience be- 
hind them. In Rom. 6: 23, the Apostle 
says, "The wages of sin is death; but the 
gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus 
Christ our Lord. " Here you have 
placed before you in the most positive 
language, the reward both of the wicked 
and the righteous ; — choose then whose 
servant you will be. 

In conclusion, I would remind you, 
dear friend, that this comes from one 
who sought and found the Lord in the 



MARY RANKIN. 93 

clays of her youth. Since that period 
twelve long years have passed away; 
and although they have been marked by 
sore affliction; yet, thank the Lord, I can 
tell you of a truth, I have pleasures 
which the world can neither give nor 
take away. I seek my happiness in God; 
from Him cometh all my joy and conso- 
lation; and therefore the loss of health, or 
friends, cannot materially affect my mind. 
I have always found the grace of God 
sufficient to enable me to bear all things. 
"Nov would I give up my prospect of 
Heaven for all the health, wealth, or 
pleasures that earth can afford. I have 
a hope which reacheth beyond the grave, 
— a hope that when life with all its trials 
and sufferings is o'er, I shall spend an 
eternity of happiness at God's right 
hand, — " where sickness, sorrow, pain, 
and death, are felt and feared no more." 
Do I not hear you say, that there, too, 
you hope to spend your eternity? If so, 
you must now prepare to meet your God 
in peace, or that hope may never be 
realized. There, doubtless, you have 



94 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

some dear friends, and they are waiting 
for you to join them. There, I hope, 
that you and I, with all the bloodwashed, 
shall meet and join to praise the Lord, 
throughout the endless ages of eter- 
nity. 

But should we not be so happy as to 
meet there, one place there is, however, 
where we shall meet again; — meet " to 
render an account for the deeds done in 
the body," — it is the judgment seat of 
Christ! 0, solemn thought! That for 
all things, whether they be good or evil, 
God will bring us into judgment. Yes, 
there I will have to render an account 
for the admonition which I have here 
given you ; — as to whether I have faith- 
fully warned you against those vices 
which I endeavored to expose to you. 
And you shall be my witness ! Dare I 
not say, that through the grace of God, 
according to my ability, I have faithful- 
ly warned you ? On the other hand, it 
is for you to say, whether you have 
profited by it or not. 0, that in the 
Great Day, I may not have to appear a 



MARY RANKIN. 95 

witness against, but for you ! is the pray- 
er of your sincere friend. 

Mary Rankin, 
My health continued gradually to im- 
prove until August, when I had a severe 
attack of dysentery. Owing to the excit- 
ing effects that opiates have on my nervous 
system, it was impossible to administer 
such medicines as are most effectual in 
the treatment of this disease ; and conse- 
quently there was much difficulty in af- 
fording any relief; yet through the assidu- 
ous attention of Dr. Hoffman^ I was 
safely brought through this sore attack 
also ; and at length found myself slowly 
improving. But scarcely had I recover- 
ed from the dysentery,, until I was taken 
with Catarrhal fever ? with which I re- 
mained prostrated for some two months. 
But through the treatment of Dr. J. D. 
Ross, (who attended at this time 7 ) and the 
mercy of a kind Providence, after I be- 
came convalescent^ my health improved 
more rapidly than it did the previous 
summer; so that by June I could sit up 
as much as an hour or two at a time. 



98 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

Through the persuasions of some of my 
friends, I was induced to teach a small 
school, which met in my room. I con- 
tinued teaching for three months, and 
took great delight in it; the more so, as 
two or three of the smaller scholars re- 
mained in the family. In these I became 
especially interested while giving them 
instructions in the evening, or hearing 
them recite their evening lessons, or re- 
peating their prayers, or listening to 
their inquiries on short portions of Scrip- 
ture, which I explained to them every 
evening. But as my health now became 
more delicate, I discontinued the school ; 
after which I again commenced to im- 
prove. 

In October following, I had the meas- 
urements taken for an artificial limb. 
Before this I had endeavored to walk 
with a crutch ; but my spine being weak 
it did not afford me sufficient support. 
Hence I was advised to procure an arti- 
ficial limb. The measurements were 
carefully taken by Dr. C, but owing to 
the difficulty of this being done accurate- 



MARY RANKIN. 97 

ly, and the disadvantage the manufactur- 
er labors under, in the absence of the 
person while the limb is being made, it 
had to be altered and realtered before it 
would answer the purpose. Consequent- 
ly we did not succeed in the matter until 
February 1850. To my friend Mr. Kin- 
kaicl, through whose agency the limb 
was procured, I am especially indebted. 

My health by this time had so much 
improved, that I could be up most of the 
clay; and the limb answering the purpose 
admirably, I was able in a short time to 
walk through my room and the adjoining 
one. 

Imagine the joy and gratitude I felt, 
after being confined so long to my bed, 
to be able once more to walk to the door 
and behold the beauties of nature, — to 
behold the sun, the moon, and the stars, 
which for nearly ten years I had not 
been permitted to look upon. I remem- 
ber having been, about this time, placed 
opposite a window, which opened toward 
the east. The sun had just " vailed his 
radiant beams in sable shade;' 7 and as I 
7 



98 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

sat silently musing, behold! from be- 
neath the horizon of the silver-fringed 
east, the Queen of the Night, accompa- 
nied by her myriads of shining attend- 
ants, burst into view. 0, how beautiful ! 
how soul-inspiring! Well might the 
royal Psalmist exclaim when revelling 
in such a scenery, "What is man, that 
Thou art mindful of him ; or the Son of 
man, that Thou visitest him." As I sat 
gazing, lost in admiration and thought, 
she continued to ascend higher in the 
spangled canopy of the sky with queen- 
ly beauty, casting a placid smile and 
benignant look o'er all beneath her sway. 
But lo ! scarcely had she extricated her- 
self from the chaos beyond, than her ra- 
diant face gradually hid itself in the deep 
shade of another world ; until she was 
again almost concealed from my ravish- 
ed vision.* While reflecting on this, to 
me, impressive phenomenon, it reminded 
me of the brevity of life, and the things 
pertaining to it. When our earthly 

* The moon was undergoing an eclipse 



MARY KANKIX. 99 

prospects are the brightest, and our cup of 
pleasure filled to overflowing, suddenly 
it is snatched from our lips. Our 
health, wealth and pleasures are all 
gone. Under such circumstances, the 
mere worldling would exclaim with 
Micah, " Ye have taken aAvay my gods, 
and what have I left." But with the 
Christian, 0, how different ! In the full 
ness of his soul he crieth out with Job, 
" The Lord gave and the Lord hath 
taken away, blessed be the name of the 
Lord." 

When reflecting upon this circum- 
stance since, it would almost appear to 
me, ominous of what awaited me in the 
future. A ray of returning health had 
then penetrated the dark gloom, which, 
for years, had hung like a pall, over my 
prison house of affliction; but it was only 
as the early dew ! 

But, though shut in from the world, 
and doomed by the hand of destiny to 
suffer; yet I w T as not alone ! He that in 
all our afflictions is afflicted, was ever 
my solace and comfort; and therefore, 



'LofG. 



100 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OE 

although this Providence seemed dark 
and mysterious, still I could say, "Even 
so, Father, if so it seenieth good in thy 
sight." 

Oft while sitting at my window, and 
becoming lost in contemplating the 
beauties of nature, for a moment past 
afflictions would be forgotten; but, when 
my remaining weakness or pain would 
remind me of it, — it would all appear 
like a frightful dream. At such times I 
have been affected even to tears. I could 
not feel grateful enough to my Heavenly 
Father for the change. 

In June I was able to be taken out ; 
and for the first time in twelve years, 
walked upon the ground. But, 0, what 
a change! Even the very air seemed to 
oppress me, and the rays of the sun ap- 
peared to wilt me like a plant. And, 
although I did not remain out over 
fifteen minutes, yet in that time both my 
hands w r ere blistered by the sun. After 
being brought in, I became very sick, 
and was attacked with vomiting, which 
continued until the after part of the 



MARY RANKIN. 101 

night. I suffered in a similar manner 
for the first seven or eight times I was 
taken out. 

By September I had gathered strength 
sufficient to be taken a short distance 
from home. My friend, Mr. Graham, 
thinking that it would do me good to be 
taken out, and fearing that I could not 
bear to be drawn by a horse, concluded 
to take me to his residence, about a mile 
distant, by hand. Accordingly Mrs. I). 
and I were seated in a buow ^yhile he 
and several other gentlemen pulled us 
along. When we arrived at Mr. Gr.'s I 
was very much fatigued; but after I had 
rested, I enjoyed the visit very much in- 
deed. After remaining some five or six 
days, I returned to my home in the same 
manner in which I was taken. My 
health now appeared to improve more 
rapidly than at any previous period ; un- 
til the last of October. And now just 
when there was a seeming prospect of a 
speedy restoration to health, I was once 
more doomed to disappointments. For 
I was again taken ill. 0, how little do 



102 AUTO-BIOGEAPIIY OF 

we know of the dark future ; and how 
true, — "the ways of God are not our 
ways, nor His thoughts our thoughts." 

"Thy thoughts, Thou only Wise, 
Our thoughts and ways transcend, 
Far as the arched skies, 
Above the earth extend." 

Here again, I suppose some would say, 
my Foe, — affliction, — crossed my path; 
but to speak the sincere sentiments of 
my heart, I would have to say, not Foe, 
but Friend; for affliction to me has been 
as a kind teacher to bring me to God. 



CHAPTER VI. 

AGAIN TAKEN ILL. HAD AN ATTACK OF HOOPING 
COUGH. 

As before stated, I was again prostra 
ted on my bed of affliction. Never having 
had the whooping cough, I happened to 
take it, a little girl having visited our 
family who had it. This affliction was 
not met without some sacrifice. A pro- 
tracted meeting being about to commence 



MARY RANKIX. 103 

in the neighborhood, I had expected to 
enjoy the privilege of attending it,— a 
pleasure I had not enjoyed for many 
years. But Providence saw proper to 
order it otherwise. When the day of the 
meeting came round, I was chained to 
my bed of suffering again, and under 
medical treatment. Inflammation of the 
lungs ensued; and as disease never seem- 
ed to attack me single handed, so in the 
present instance. Scarlet fever being in 
the neighborhood, I took it also; from 
which I suffered very much in conse- 
quence of inflammation suppuration of 
my tonsils. The first time this occurred^ 
I was not able, for two or three days and 
nights, to swallow so much as a drop of 
water, strangulation taking place when- 
ever I attempted it. The second day 
after my throat was so swollen, I remem- 
ber that a glass of water was set on the 
window near where I lay. 0, how wish- 
fully did I look upon it, and think how 
often I had quaffed that limpid element, 
without even thinking that I should thank 
Him who has bestowed so great a bless- 



104 AUTOBIOGKRAPHY OF 

ing upon us ! I thought then that if ever 
I were again privileged to partake of it, 
I could not do so, without feeling grate- 
ful to Him from whom all blessings flow. 
How prone we are, amidst health and 
plenty, to be forgetful of Him from whom 
alone our every blessing, both spiritual 
and temporal, is derived. We are depend- 
ent upon an independent God even for 
the vital air we breathe; yet how many 
live, as though they were at His defiance, 
and say by their words and actions, that 
they will not have God to rule over them. 
Whilst suffering from this attack, I 
instituted a scrutinizing examination in- 
to my spiritual condition. I thought 
that perhaps I had not been sufficiently 
thankful for the health which I had en- 
joyed. But I could not remember, that, 
in attending to my daily devotional ex- 
ercises, I ever forgot to be thankful for 
that degree of health which God had 
again bestowed upon me. With David, 
I felt to say, " Search me, Lord, and see 
if there be any wicked way in me, and 
lead me in the way everlasting." 



MARY RANKIN. 105 

My attending physician, Dr. S. Ml 
Ross, attempted to relieve me by lancing 
my tonsils ; but lie did not succeed at the 
first attempt. He remained with me, 
however, during the night, and steamed 
my throat by inhalation, which, while it 
relieved my burning thirst, also reduced 
the swelling, so that by the next forenoon 
he succeeded in performing the operation. 
My tonsils, however, continued frequent- 
ly to inflame and suppurate during his 
attendance. My lungs were also again 
attacked. The usual remedies had not 
the desired effect; some of the external 
applications were absorbed and produced 
inflammation of the stomach and bowels. 
Never w^as I brought nearer to the 
grave's brink than at this time. My 
physician was nearly constantly in attend- 
ance, and resorted to every means to 
relieve me; but all to no purpose. 

When my disease had reached its 
crisis, sinking, or fainting spells, ensued, 
from which, at times, I could not be re- 
vived for half an hour. In this fainting, 
or dying condition I remained all day 



106 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

January 15th, 1851. My physician 
thought it impossible for me to live, and 
my friends, therefore, surrounded my 
bed to take a last, long farewell. But 
"man's extremity" is said to be God's op- 
portunity ; and so it appeared in this in- 
stance. For after everv thing had been 
done, that medical skill could do, Provi- 
dence seemed to take the case in His own 
hands; and those sinking spells, — the 
very thing my physician thought must 
end my existence (as I heard him re- 
mark afterwards), was the very thing 
that saved it; as they checked the in- 
flammation. The reader may depend, 
this was a momentous day, and I shall 
never forget it. Prostrated upon my 
couch, I lay helpless as an infant, suffer- 
ing the most excruciating pain, that, I 
think, it was possible for mortal to en- 
dure; whilst life and death seemed to be 
struggling for the mastery. 

Oft have I gazed upon the setting sun, 
and wished that the sun of my life might 
set as calmly and as peacefully as that 
luminary; and now my wishes seemed 






MAEY EAXKIN. 107 

about to be realized. Not a dimming 
cloud seemed to intervene ! True, I 
have at other times, when nearing the 
cold waters of death, felt more ecstasy ; 
but at this time, a calm, deep, sweet 
peace pervaded my soul. I cannot find 
language better to express it, than to sa} r , 
""I felt like fading away into glory. " 
Death had no terrors for me. I looked 
upon his approach with perfect compos- 
ure, ready to sink into his embrace with- 
out a struggle. I felt that the dark val- 
ley would be to me but an outlet from 
sin and suffering, and the very gateway 
to Heaven! Although, frequently un- 
conscious during those sinking spells, yet 
I remember of two instances when I was 
not so. For, notwithstanding my senses 
were closed to all outward objects, still I 
could think and reason. I seemed to be 
basking in the sweet sunshine of Heaven; 
all around seemed light ; angels hovered 
o'er my bed ; — I thought I could hear 
the rustling of their wings, while sounds 
seraphic fell on my ears. In this way I 
continued for some time, when I was 



108 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

again revived by the untiring exertions 
of physician and friends. 0, how it 
grieved me to see my friends weeping 
around me ! I thought they should have 
rather rejoiced that my sufferings were 
so near an end. I felt desirous to speak, 
and tell them of the joys that I felt; but 
such was my weakness that I had to 
forego that pleasure. I, however, suc- 
ceeded to speak some to my mother and 
youngest brother, and bid them, as I 
then thought, a last farewell ; and again 
sank away in one of those spells, occasion- 
ed by the effort of speaking.* Towards 
evening, my system, which had remain- 
ed in a cold and dying condition all day, 
showed signs of returning vitality. The 
disease seemed to have passed its acme. 
But, 0, how weak and prostrated I was ! 
Ice, with occasionally a few drops of 
wine, was all that my irritable stomach 
w r ould bear. It was only with the great- 
est care on the part of my physician and 



* For further particulars in reference to my situa- 
tion at that time, the reader is referred to the account 
given by Dr. Ross, in the Appendix. 



MARY RANKIN. 109 

friends that I survived these spells. In 
a few weeks, I began slowly to recover 
strength ; but now Chronic Inflammation 
of the liver set in, from which I suffered 
until the 1st of September. 

In June of this year (1851), I enjoyed 
the pleasure of a visit from my brother, 

D , whom I had not seen for eleven 

vears : and yet I recognized him the mo- 
ment he entered my room. But the joy 
of our meeting so overcame me, that I 
swooned away; and from this I did not 
recover for some time, so as to be able to 
converse with him. 

As it has been beautifully said, that 
"flowers are the foot-prints of angels, 
and the alphabet by which they write on 
hill and dale/' I must advert to another 
incident of the kind in this place. 

On the morning after the day above 
referred to, my dear mother wishing to 
render me all the gratification in her 
power, raised a window at the head of 
my bed, at which grew a beautiful rose- 
bush, a luxuriant branch of which fell 
gracefully within the open window. All 



110 AUTO-BIGGEAPHY OF 

nature seemed to harmonize with my 
feelings. The sylvan songsters were 
warbling their mellow notes in the wood- 
land that surrounded my mountain home. 
The day was fine, the air calm, exhilarat- 
ing and salubrious ; and being fanned by 
the gentle zephyrs that played amidst 
the leaflets of the fragrant branch, which 
maternal affection had now twined about 
my pillow, rendering the air of the apart- 
ment redolent, and literally strewing my 
couch with the fading, but ever fragrant 
petals of the rose, — I was in a perfect 
ecstasy of delight. 

But scarcely had the first impulse of 
mingled emotions of joy subsided, ere an 
overwhelming sadness weighed like a 
mountain on my heart. Never had my 
mother's kindness affected me so sensibly 
as at this moment. As she tenderly bent 
the branchlet down over my pillow, I 
was affected even to tears, when I saw 
the joy she evinced at the thought of 
being able to gratify me. The thought 
that in all probability, I should never be 
able, in the least degree, to requite her 



MAEY KANKIjNT. Ill 

kindness, completely overcame me; and 
finding myself alone, I buried my face in 
my pillow and wept. Contrary to my 
will, the thought intruded itself upon my 
mind, — "Shouldest thou ever be called 
to languish on a bed of pain, who will so 
tenderly watch over, and twine a gar] and 
of flowers around thy dying pillow?" 
But here my reverie was broken up by 
the arrival of my physician. I now 
strove to suppress my tears, and subdue 
my feelings, in which I partially succeed- 
ed ; but as the physician approached my 
bedside, and spoke of the luxuriance of 
the branchlet, his quick eye caught the 
forbidden tears that still stole down my 
cheeks. It being unusual to find me 
thus, he expressed his surprise, and ten- 
derly inquired the cause. After inform- 
ing him, he seemed at once to enter into 
my feelings, and turned the incident to 
profit, by reminding me of that consoling 
promise, "Fear ye not, ye are of more 
value than many sparrows." " And if 
God so clothe the grass of the field which 
to-day i.y 7 and to-morrow is cast into the 



112 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

oven, will lie not then be mindful of us." 
The rebuke, "0, ye of little faith, " came 
home to me with great weight, and I now 
felt a perfect acquiescence to the will of 
God ; — a willingness to trust self, or those 
dearer than self to His hands. 

Acute inflammation of the liver now 
set in, followed bj an abscess, which was 
some five or six weeks forming. My 
suffering during the time it was forming 
can not be imagined, much less describ- 
ed. I oft sighed for relief, should it even 
be the relief of death. But scarcely 
would this thought gain possession of my 
mind, until I would feel to chide myself 
for entertaining it a moment ; feeling and 
knowing that it was my duty to suffer 
whatever my Heavenly Father seen fit 
to lay upon me. Here, too, my ever 
kind and attentive physician, Dr. R., de- 
serves my highest regard for his un- 
wearied attention, as also for the skillful 
manner in which he treated the case. 
Not satisfied with his own opinion, he 
called in Dr. Coffee for consultation ; to 
whom I also feel myself greatly indebted, 



MARY RASKIN. 113 

for the interest he manifested for me. 
After these medical gentlemen had con- 
sulted together, I desired them to tell me 
their opinion concerning my case, assuring 
them that they need not fear to do so, as 
I was prepared for any result. Agreeably 
to my desire, they kindly informed me 
that they considered my case beyond the 
reach of medical aid, and it now depend- 
ed on the way in which the abscess would 
discharge, whether I could survive or 
not. Should it open into the cavity of 
the lungs, or that of the bowels, it would 
be instant death; if into the stomach I 
might possibly recover. But such, said 
the}', was my reduced condition, that 
should it even discharge in the most 
favorable manner, it would require the 
greatest care, and most diligent attention 
to get me over it. 

After this opinion had been been given, 
I remember a certain lady present, who, 
alluding to it, asked me whether, if death 
should take place, I would be willing to 
undergo a post mortem examination, the 
more fully, as she said, to satisfy the 
8 



114 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

people in reference to the nature of my 
disease. The thought to me, ! how un- 
pleasant! And indeed, at the time, the 
suggestion seemed to me unkind. I 
therefore answered, "No; my physicians 
are agreed about my case, and if their 
opinion does not satisfy others, I do not 
feel it my duty to consent to such an ex- 
amination to gratify curiosity — I should 
say, idle curiosity." How thoughtless 
the request on the part of this lady; and 
to me how distressing! 

With the progress of the disease, my 
pain and suffering increased, until it was 
almost insupportable. Respiration could 
not be performed, except with the most 
painful upheaving of the chest, the dia- 
phragm being so much confined, from 
the enlarged condition of the liver, that 
it was almost impossible for it to act. 
On examination it was discovered that 
pus had formed eight or ten days before it 
found an outlet. In order to assist na- 
ture, the physicians concluded to insert a 
cannula or tube into the cavity of the ab- 
scess, so that the pus might flow from it. 



MAEY KANKIff. 115 

Before doing so, however, they explored 
the parts with a probe, to find the proper 
place for introducing it, but were not 
successful then. I was not in a state of 
consciousness at the time of introducing 
the instrument, being under the influ- 
ence of ether. A day however was set, 
on which to perform the operation ; but 
on the day previous to the one fixed on, 
my attending physician discovered that 
an effusion of serum, or a dropsical affec- 
tion of the chest had taken place. He 
then apprised me of my situation, and. 
his fears as to the result of an operation. 
Being fully aware of my condition, and 
scarcely entertaining the faintest hope of 
surviving, I desired to commemorate the 
sufferings and death of Christ before it was 
undertaken. Accordingly the Rev. J. B. 
Sitman was requested to administer the 
Ordinance to me, on the forenoon of the 
day on which they designed operating. 
This Ordinance always affected my mind 
with great solemnity; but on this occasion 
it did so especially, as I was just on the 
brink of eternity, and would likely soon 



116 



AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 



realize the full import of it in the king- 
dom of Heaven. 0, how transporting 
the thought, rendered more so by the 
affecting and solemn manner in which 
Rev. S. administered it! I felt then, as 
though my last earthly wish had been 
gratified ; and I but awaited the summons 
to go from earth to glory. 

When the physicians came, and ex- 
amined into, and consulted about my 
case, they informed me with deep emo- 
tion, that it was then too late to relieve 
me by an operation ; saying that it would 
not be good surgery to attempt it, as I 
would likely die in their hands. I was 
enabled, through grace, to receive the 
information calmly, feeling assured, that 
nothing had been left undone that medical 
skill could accomplish to relieve me. 
Yea, I could rejoice in hope of a blessed 
immortality beyond this vale of tears, 
where 

" Sickness and sorrow, pain and death, 
Are felt and feared no more !" 

In this manner I continued to suffer 
for eight days longer, when the abscess 



MARY RANKIN. 117 

finally broke, while my mother was 
changing my position,— and discharged 
into the stomach. I felt at the time, as 
though the last struggle had come ; and 
while the words, "0 mother!" died on 
my lips, I swooned away. They found it 
almost impossible to revive me; but, at 
length succeeded. After I was restored, 
a death-like feeling still remained, until 
the pus was discharged. After this I 
was so much exhausted, that nature 
sought repose in sleep, from which I 
found it very annoying to be aroused 
every few moments, by my kind watchers, 
with the application of the hartshorn 
bottle. In consequence of my extreme 
weakness, they could scarcely discern 
whether I was breathing or not, and 
hence the frequent application of the an- 
noying ammonia. My liver continued to 
discharge, at times, for three months, and 
yet my general health improved some. 
About the time the abscess ceased to 
discharge, my system was thrown into 
an inflammatory condition, and fearing 
that the same result would again take 



118 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

place, my physician introduced a seton, 
which was of great benefit to me. I still 
continued improving; and by March I 
could be raised in bed to a sitting pos- 
ture; and the following June, I was able 
to write (which I had not been for near- 
ly two years), and I then addressed the 
following letter to Dr. R., who some short 
time previous, had left our neighborhood. 
Yellow Springs, June 10th, 1852. 
Dr. S. M. R.— My very Dear Friend: 
Yours of May the 14th, was duly receiv- 
ed. And in compliance with your re- 
quest, to "write as soon as able," I now 
assume my pen with great pleasure for 
that purpose. With pleasure did I say? 
Yes, it affords me the most exquisite 
pleasure to be able once more to address 
a friend by letter. How often, since I 
last wrote, have I been brought to the 
brink of the grave! so that it seemed im- 
possible for me to survive ! And yet, — 
strange to tell,- — God, in His allwise 
providence, has seen fit to spare my ap- 
parently useless and unprofitable life. 
When contemplating the past, I feel like 



MAEY BAN KIN. 119 

exclaiming, "What hath God wrought!'' 
Truly, "marvellous are His works." 
And do I ask, Why has God dealt with 
me thus ? No ; enough for me to know, 
"it is the Lord 7 let Him do what seemeth 
Him good." My only desire is, that His 
purpose in me, — whether that be to do or to 
suffer, — may be fully accomplished. 
Nor am I, — whilst wondering at the way 
through which Providence has brought 
me, — forgetful of Mm whom He hath 
made instrumental in my recovery. No; 
forgetfulness of that would be ingratitude 
—and ungrateful, you know, I cannot be! 
I shall always feel that to you, under 
the blessing of God, I owe the preserva- 
tion of my life. But for your unwearied 
attention, I feel, I should now be sleeping 
with the dead ! With a proper sense of 
this, who could be ungrateful ? No, my 
dear friend, be assured, your kindness 
shall never be forgotten ; — on the tablet 
of my heart it is written, from which it 
shall never be erased. Fain would I tell 
you my gratitude, could I find language 
to do so. Thanks, is too weak a word to 



120 AUTO-BIOOEAP1IY OF 

express my feelings ; and at the best, is 
but a poor remuneration for your kind- 
ness. But still inadequate as it is, I 
would ask you to accept my thanks, for 
the innumerable obligations I feel I owe 
to you. And although this attempt to 
express what can only be felt, is all that 
I have to offer at this time, yet I hope 
that He who hath said, not even a cup of 
cold water, when given in His name, 
shall lose its reward, may bestow upon 
you Heaven's choicest blessings in time; 
and in the future, a home among the 
sanctified. 

I have had an attack of congestion of 
the lungs since you left ; but have recov- 
ered from it. At the present time I am 
suffering from Neuralgia in my head, 
face and neck. My side is not quite so 
painful as it was. The seton discharges 
very freely, is very much inflamed, and 
is, I think,, the most painful one, that I 
ever had introduced. My nerves are not 
so sensitive as they were ; and, conse- 
quently, I do not faint so easily as for- 
merly. But as jet r I eannot be raised 



MARY RANKIN. 121 

more than to a half sitting and half lying 
position in the bed ; and when raised to 
that hight even, I experience lightness in 
my head, and grow faint and sick. Al- 
though I have not improved so rapidly 
of late as I had been doing for sometime 
before you left, yet in strength I am still 
gaining some. 

I had a letter from sister E , a few 

days ago. She regrets very much on my 
account, that you have left. Dr. E. is 
very attentive. He was to see me on 
Monday last, and spoke of addressing a 
letter to you that evening. Weary from 
the fatigue of writing, for the present I 
will close. Please write soon. With 
every sentiment of gratitude possible, I 
remain ever your friend. Mary. 

0, how beautiful did nature appear as 
I again looked upon it from the window 
of my sick room ; and the more so to me, 
because I had not the pleasure of enjoy- 
ing such a privilege for so long a time. 
My eyes, it appeared, could not feast 
themselves enough upon it ; — 

"Ever charming, ever new, 
How could the scene ere tire the view/' 



122 



AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 



Everything upon which the eye rested 
appeared to afford me new delight, or 
lessons of instruction. My mind grasp- 
ed at everything. The rain-drop held 
by the force of attraction to the leaflet, 
the dew-drop resting on the bosom of the 
rose, and glittering in the sunbeam, un- 
til it became entirely absorbed in the 
rays of earth's great luminary, — to me, 
how instructive. The rain-drops and 
dew-drops in themselves so small ; or in 
comparison with the sun, a mere atom ; 
and yet they could reflect his image! 
To me how encouraging ! For although 
I felt my unworthiness and nothingness 
before so great a being as God ; and that 
I was far more insignificant in compari- 
son with Him, than the dew-drop in com- 
parison with the sun ;— yet through His 
assisting grace I have been enabled to 
bear the affliction He has seen fit to visit 
upon me — though so insignificant, I too, 
like the dew-drop, can reflect His image. 
In December I had the pleasure of a 
visit from my physician, Di\ R., who had 
removed from our neighborhood the pre- 



MAIiY RANKIX. 123 

vlous May ; but who, however, still pre- 
scribed, while Dr. E. administered. By 
this time I had so far recovered, that I 
was able to sit up and take dinner with 
him; a pleasure which, I at one time, 
during his attendance, never expected to 
enjoy. 

Being now able to resume my pen, the 
following correspondence took place be- 
tween mvself and my good old friend Dr. 
Hoffman. 

Yellow Springs, April, 3d, 1853. 

Dr. J. Hoefmax: — Bear Friend: — 
Yours of the 28th uli, was not received 
until yesterday. I was truly sorry to 
hear of the poor state of your health, and 
hope you are better by this time. I 
have learned, by experience what it is to 
be afflicted, and therefore can sympathize 
with those who are suffering in like man- 
ner. Truly, many and sore have been 
the afflictions you have had to pass 
through. But who was it that "went up 
through great tribulation, and washed 
their robes and made them white in the 
blood of the lamb?" Was it not the 



124 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

afflicted saints ? Yes doubtless ; for we 
are told, "that those whom the Lord 
loveth He chasteneth, and seourgeth all 
whom He receiveth." And although no 
chastening, for the present seemeth joy- 
ous, but grevious; nevertheless, after- 
wards, it yieldeth the peaceable fruits of 
righteousness, unto all them that are ex- 
ercised thereby. Then why should the 
child of affliction and sorrow be discour- 
aged; seeing that "these light afflictions, 
which are but for a moment (compara- 
tively) shall work out for him a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory." 
Mark! not only glory, but an eternal 
weight of glory ! Oh, yes, dear friend, if 
faithful a few more days, or years at 
most; — then you shall be received into 
that heavenly kingdom, whose "builder 
and maker is God," — "into that house 
not made with hands eternal in the 
heavens!" There, free from trials and 
temptations; from sin, from suffering, 
and from death, you Avill sing redemp- 
tion's anthem through eternal ages. 
Oft when reflecting on the providence 



MARY RANKIN. 125 

of God in afflicting His people, I have 
thought how very necessary those afflic- 
tions are, — which at times we are so un- 
willing to bear, — as they serve to re- 
mind us, that this is not our home, — 
"Here have we no abiding place" — "and 
that we must seek one which is to come " 
— "and labor for the rest that remaineth 
for the people of God," Oh! how sweet 
will that rest be to the way-worn pil- 
grim ! How sweet to be forever released 
from sorrow and suffering, and admitted 
into that Heavenly Jerusalem, where we 
shall enjoy uninterrupted peace forever. 
During my afflictions, I have often long- 
ed for the time, when the Lord should 
say, "It is enough, come up higher." 
O, how my soul would stretch her wings, 
and hasten to her home in Heaven ; and 
tune her harp to its highest key in praise 
to Him for His great Salvation ! But if 
the thought of future blessedness makes 
the soul thus to exult; what will the 
realization of it be, wdien freed from this 
dull clod of cumbrous clay, and per- 
mitted forever to bask in the sunshine of 



126 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

an eternal clay. * * * * I often 
think of the words of the Psalmist. "It 
is good for rne that I have been afflicted, 
for thereby I have learned to keep thy 
statutes." No doubt "in that day when 
all things shall be revealed," I shall find 
that I have more cause to rejoice, than 
to murmur at the dispensation which has 
been committed unto me. * * * 
In personal affliction, how wonderful 
is the special providence of God display- 
ed; which "doth not suffer even a spar- 
row to fall to the ground unnoticed." 
Thereby He shows us that He not only 
sees, or knows us as a people or nation; 
but that He knows us individually, and 
cares for us. Thus when any of His 
dear children are about to place their 
affections on some earthly object that 
would be likely to wean their love from 
Him, He comes in mercy, and either 
afflicts their bodies, or removes that in 
which they most delighted ; but which 
would have proved ruinous to their souls. 
And thus it is, that He by His special 
providence watches over, and takes care 



MARY RANKIN. 127 

of us. Let us, therefore, — since He has 
said, "fear ye not, for ye are of more 
value than many sparrows," — bear pa- 
tiently the chastening rod, and soon He 
will say it is enough. Adieu for the 
present. Please write soon. 

From your friend and sister in afflic- 
tion, M. Rankin. 

To this the doctor replied soon after as 
follows: 

May the 1st, 1853. 

My clear afflicted sister: — Your kind 
and welcome letter was duly received; 
but my feeble health, and a crowd of 
business must plead my apology for not 
answering sooner. These lines leave my 
family in reasonable health. As for my- 
self, I still feel very feeble ; but I am 
now for the last few days able to attend 
to some business. * * * * 

We rejoice to hear that your health 
lias again so much improved ; and hope 
that it may please God to restore you 
to perfect health. As to myself, the 
trials and afflictions that I have to con- 
tend with, have almost overcome my 



128 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

strength both of "body and mind. But I 
still hope and trust in God, that in the 
end it may be for my good. I desire 
your earnest prayers, that I may not en- 
tirely lose all my hope and confidence. 
Pray, my dear sister, that my faith may 
grow stronger,— "for the fervent, effect- 
ual prayer of the righteous availeth 
much." I always think of you when I 
am bowed before the Lord, in my daily 
devotional exercises. I cannot tell the 
time when I did not think of you in my 
prayers. * * * * * 

Please write soon, for I do want some 
encouragement. And may it please 
God to give you talent to enable you to 
say something that will prove encour- 
aging to me, is the prayer of your un- 
worthy but affectionate brother in the 
bonds of Christian love. May be, I shall 
see you all once more in the world. 

J. H. 

On reading the lines of my dear old 
friend, my whole soul became enlisted in 
his behalf, and I wrote to him the following 
letter to encourage and strengthen him : 



MARY KANKIN. 129 

Yellow Springs, May 12th, 1853. 
My Dear Friend : — Yours under date 
of the 1st inst., came to hand on the 7th. 
Its reception and perusal caused mingled 
emotions of joy and grief to arise in my 
breast; joy, to hear from you, and also to 
learn that your family enjoyed good 
health. Grief, to hear that you had been, 
and still were the subject of such deep 
afflictions. If the communication of a 
friend could relieve you, then, verily, 
brother H., you should speedily be re- 
lieved. For so deeply do I sympathize 
with you in your afflictions, that, were it 
possible, I would gladly bear your afflic- 
tion with that of my own. But this I 
cannot do. In the economy of an All- 
wise Providence it has been so arranged 
that each has his own trials and afflic- 
tions to bear; and the only way we can 
be said to bear each others' burthens, is 
by praying for, and sympathizing with 
one another. And this you may rest as- 
sured, I most heartily do for you. 

You ask of me, encouragement. 
Would that it were in my power to give 
9 



i 



130 AUTO-BIOGRA.PHY OF 

it you! Most gladly would I impart it; 
but what can I say, that would be en- 
couraging to you^ For me to attempt to 
administer consolation to one so much 
my senior in years, and superior in 
Christian experience, would appear too 
much "like the glow worm instructing 
the sun how to shine.'' But yet, not- 
withstanding this disparity in years and 
experience; in affliction, I presume, I 
am not your inferior, and therefore on 
this point, I will venture to say a few 
things. And in attempting to do so, 
allow me to suggest to you some of those 
Scriptural passages which have afforded 
me so much comfort in my afflictions. 
First, I will refer you to- that invaluable 
promise recorded, in Isaiah 41: 10, "Fear 
thou not, saith God, for I am with thee ; 
be not discouraged, for I am thy God ; I 
will strengthen thee; yea, I will help 
thee; yea, I will uphold thee by the right 
hand of My righteousness." 0, what 
tenderness, and wondrous condescen- 
sion ! As if not content, though He had 
assured us of His continued presence, 



MARY RANKIN. 131 

He adds, as if more fully to command 
our confidence: " Yea, I will help thee; 
yea, I will uphold thee with the right 
hand of My righteousness." Claiming 
this promise as your own ; or in other 
words, "taking God at His word," can 
you doubt for a moment His love and 
goodness towards you. Again, Isaiah, 
Chap. 43:2, says, "When thou passest 
through the waters, I will be with thee; 
and through the rivers they shall not 
overflow thee: when thou walkest 
through the fire, thou shalt not be burn- 
ed, neither shall the flames kindle upon 
thee." And in the verse preceding, Ho 
tells us the reason, namely, "For I have 
redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy 
name; thou art Mine." Then why is it, 
dear friend, that you are so prone to 
doubt and despondency whenever He sees 
fit to cause you to pass through the 
waters and fires of affliction ? Claim 
these promises and plead them as your 
own, and though He may not remove you 
from the furnace, or extinguish its fires at 
once; yet, be assured, He will not keep 



132 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

you a moment longer there, than is for 
your own good, or His glory. And while 
He keeps you there, " He will sit by as 
a refiner and purifier of silver," and will 
thoroughly purge the dross, and take 
away all the tin, and make you to walk 
in white. 

How beautiful the lines of the poet on 
this subject, — 

"When through fiery trials thy pathy way shall lie, 
My grace all sufficient shall be thy supply ; 
The flames shall not hurt thee, I only design, 
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine. - 

A certain writer has beautifully said, 
that "every trial or affliction we are 
called to pass through, and every tempta- 
tion we surmount, adds another and a 
brighter jewel to our crown." And if 
so, 0, with what radiance will yours 
shine, on that "day when God comes to 
make up His jewels." 

That the arm of Omnipotence may 
still be your safety and defense, and that 
you may have grace to bear with 
patience your many trials and afflictions, 
is the earnest prayer of your unworthy 
friend, M. 



MAEY RANKIN. 133 

P. S. Thank you, doctor, for the kind 
wishes expressed in your letter in regard 
to my health, and for remembering me 
in your prayers. I hope you will con- 
tinue to present me at a throne of 
heavenly grace. My physical health is 
still improving; and spiritually, my 
prospects for Heaven were never so 
bright. * * * * * * 

We, with all the rest of your friends 
here, are very anxious to see you. Do 
you not think that you would be able to 
visit us once more ? Perhaps a visit to 
the country might be a benefit to your 
health. 

Please write soon,— I am anxious to 
know what is the state of your health. 
Mother joins in best wishes to yourself 
and family. I am ever your grateful 
and devoted friend. M. Rankin. 



CHAPTER VII. 

HEALTH CONTINUED IMPROVING.— ABLE TO BE OUT 
OF DOORS.— A VISIT TO MR. GRAHIM'S.— ATTEND- 
ANCE AT CHURCH. 

With occasionally a slight interrup- 
tion, mv health continued to improve, so 
that in July of this year (1853), I was 
able to visit some of my friends. Spent 
a week with a kind family; — the old 
homestead, which I remember to have 
visited in my early youth ; or some twen- 
ty years before. And yet, notwithstand- 
ing such a length of time had elapsed, 
many of the objects with which it was 
surrounded, wore quite a familiar aspect. 
Particularly the scenery in the basement 
story. There stood the very, identical, 
old-fashioned table, in precisely the same 
spot, at which I remember to have seen 
the old grandmother sitting, while she 
was preparing the vegetables for the 
evening repast. I almost imagined I saw 



AUTOBIOGKAPHY, &C. 135 

her vet. But although the casket was 
there, alas! the jewels were gone. 

Whilst here a circumstance occurred 
which I cannot pass by unnoticed. I 
remember, when a child, of standing on 
the porch and watching with delight the 
lightnings as they played from cloud to 
cloud over the southern part of the 
heavens. The same phenomenon took 
place during this visit. The coincidence 
was so striking, that, for a moment, it 
appeared like a dream from which I had 
just awoke. But, alas I what a reality! 
what a change had come over the spirit 
of my dreams ! Ye scenes of my child- 
hood, whither have ye fled? Gone, nev- 
er to return ! 

About half a mile from this old home- 
stead, still lived the grand-sire of this 
kind family, whom I visited before re- 
turning home; and where I was received 
with the greatest demonstrations of kind- 
ness. Here I beheld, as it were, an end 
to human nature. The old lady and gen- 
tleman, Octigenarians, both lying — the 
one in one room and the other in one ad- 



136 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

joining, helpless from old age; and also a 
daughter who is an invalid. Here was 
every earthly blessing that heart could de- 
sire to make them comfortable and happy, 
but they were incapaciated for enjoying 
earthly good, or being rendered happy 
by the same. But the impression, which 
the patient resignation, depicted in the 
old man's countenance, made on my 
mind, I shall never forget. His snowy 
locks, falling in graceful ringlets down 
over his neck, seemed to me, — 0, how 
beautiful! And indeed his whole ap- 
pearance wore quite a patriarchal expres- 
sion. But his glass was nearly run. 
Two short months more, and his earthly 
pilgrimage was ended ; and now, I trust, 
he is among those " who have w r ashed 
their robes and made them w T hite in the 
blood of the Lamb." 

After returning home from this visit ? 
my health and spirit seemed to be much 
improved. And as I had been advised 
by my physician to be taken out occa- 
sionally, in hopes of benefiting my 
health, I shortly afterwards visited some 



MAEY RANKIN, 137 

more of my friends. While on a visit to 
Mr. Graham's, I was kindly taken along 
to church on Sabbath, and heard the 
Rev. Mr. Elliott deliver a very good ad- 
dress on the missionary cause. This 
was the first time I was able to attend 
public service for sixteen years. To me, 
indeed, it was quite a privilege; — a 
privilege which, I fear, too many who 
enjoy every Sabbath, lightly esteem. 
The Sanctuary — the house of God — 0, 
how I have always loved its courts ! But 
being deprived of attendance upon public 
worship so many years, I feel to thank 
God that He is not confined to large as- 
semblies, but deigns to visit the humblest 
of His creatures in their lonely and soli- 
tary estate. 

From Mr. G.'s I was taken to my 
friend, Mr. Kinkaid's. I enjoyed the 
visit to this kind family very much. 
During this visit, I also spent part of a 
day in the family of my friend, W. F. 
In this house we lived when my limb 
was amputated. Whilst there, I had 
vivid recollections of that trying occur- 



138 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

rence, and the years of suffering within 
its wails. And while contrasting the 
present with the past, I felt to thank Him 
who had been so mindful of me during 
my affliction, as to give me supporting 
grace, and in His own time bring about 
my restoration. 

Happening to remark to Bro. F., the 
exercises of my mind, he said that after 
having taken me there, he thought, per- 
haps, a recollection of the past events 
and associations which are connected 
with the place, might render my visit 
anything else than pleasant. But, I in- 
formed him, that I was happy to assure 
him, that, although I thought of it, it 
had caused my heart to swell with grati- 
tude and joy, instead of filling it with 
bitter and melancholy reflections. 

After returning home my health, as 
on a previous visit, seemed much im- 
proved ; and I was encouraged with the 
idea of being taken out again in the fu- 
ture. 

Soon after this I made a visit to friend 
Weight's. After remaining there sever- 



MARY RANKIN". 139 

al days, I visited a number of other ac- 
quaintances; and among the rest, the 
familv with whom I lived several years 
previous to my affliction. What emo- 
tions of sorrow and pleasure did this 
visit occasion me ! Here were the scenes 
which in my early youth afforded me so 
much delight. Hill and dale, crook and 
vale, — Oh ! how fondly memory still 
clings to them all. Sixteen long years 
had passed, and with them what changes 
had occurred, not only in myself, but in 
every object that surrounded me. Noth- 
ing, now, seemed so familiar to me as 
the old family mansion. Two members 
of the family had since passed away ; the 
one, the paternal head of the family, who 
was ever kind to me as a father ; and 
whose memory is ever dear. The aged 
matron was still lingering on the shore, 
but has since followed. When I first- 
beheld her, my emotion quite overcame 
me. She was now upwards of eighty 
years ; and since my last interview (six- 
teen years) with her, she had undergone 
a great change ; so great, indeed, that I 



140 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

would not have recognized her, had I met 
her from home. 

From a window, I beheld the spot 
where I met with the fatal accident, to 
which may very justly be attributed the 
loss of my health. My feelings, as I 
gazed upon the memorable spot, are in- 
describable. That was the turning point 
in the history of my being. There (I 
may say) I bade farewell to health, to 
former associates, to earthly pleasures, 
and every thing this world calls great and 
good. There it was, that a sense of a 
higher existence was awakened in me, 
and my heart was melted to tenderness. 
To the time of this event I may date my 
turning to Grod ; and but for it, I might 
never have enjoyed the rapturous de- 
light which has since so often filled my 
poor heart. 

Oh! what vivid recollections of the 
past flitted before the vision of my mind, 
as I beheld again those loved hills o'er 
which I used to stroll in pursuit of the 
■wild flower, or the delicious strawberry ! 
For a moment, in imagination, I lived 



MARY RANKIN. 141 

over again those happy clays of my juve- 
nility ; but, alas ! the reality had gone 
with the days of other years. But still, 
how sweet their memory is to me. 

During this visit I attended, with my 
friend W.'s family, a communion season 
of the Lutheran brethren. Never but 
once before, was I permitted to celebrate 
this holy ordinance in public. I enjoyed 
it very much. I also had the pleasure of 
hearing the Rev. Mr. Rightmeyer deliv- 
er a very impressive and appropriate dis- 
course, previous to administering the 
Sacrament. 

Here, too, time had done its work. 
The old stone church, located in the 
midst of the resting place of the dead, 
was now vacant, and its courts were 
silent as the graves around it. Instead 
of the old stone structure, a more sightly 
brick edifice now served as the place of 
Divine worship. But for invalids such 
as myself, the old church would have 
been more convenient ; for the weakness 
of my spine still prevented me from as- 
cending a flight of steps. But through 



142 AUTO-BIOGBAPHY OF 

the kindness of my friends this exigency 
was soon overcome, as they kindly car- 
ried me up the stairs in an arm-chair, 
where the immunities of the Sanctuary 
soon caused me to forget all difficulties. 

I spent several days in the family of 
Mrs. Stewart; after which I returned 
home much invigorated. I felt almost 
recompensed for all that I had been made 
to suifer, in having been privileged to 
wait upon the Lord in His house, to fol- 
low Him in His Ordinances, and to visit 
once more the scenes of my youth. 

Stern winter now setting in, I had to 
forego the pleasure of making visits, and 
seek my enjoyment within the bosom of 
my quiet and retired home. To this end, 
I again resumed my former studies, to 
which, however, I now added history. 
I also devoted a part of my time to cor- 
responding with my friends, which was 
a source of great pleasure and delight to 
me. 

Often, when too much indisposed to 
study, or to be engaged with my needle- 
work, I have sat down, feeling lonely and 



MARY RANKIN. 143 

disconsolate, and yearning for the society 
of some kind friend. Often, when in this 
state of mind, has my eye rested upon an 
evergreen which stood opposite my 
chamber window. All around stood 
trees that in summer were decked so 
gaily, but now appeared dry and wither- 
ed. The bleak winds of winter whistled 
over it, and mother Earth was wrapped in 
her mantle of snow ; yet, there stood the 
beautiful evergreen, exhibiting the ver- 
dure of a sunny Spring. To me it was 
ever a memento of true friendship ; that 
friendship which is pure, unfading, and 
abiding as eternity itself ; and which the 
winter of affliction and adversity cannot 
blight or destroy. These meditations 
would at once dissipate my solitary and 
dejected fellings; and reviewing my list 
of friends, my mind's eye would rest up- 
on some cherished one, to whom I would 
then, generally direct an epistle. And 
in this way I realized nearly as much 
pleasure as if I had been permitted to be- 
hold those loved ones face to face. 

During my winter confinement my 



144 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

mind became much occupied with differ- 
ent subjects, particularly that of the Mis- 
sionary cause ; and I was greatly drawn 
out in prayer for its success. Having 
realized for myself the joys which relig- 
ion can afford, I felt anxious that others, 
who had not yet heard the glad sound of 
salvation, should also become partakers 
of its'saving influence. I examined my- 
self more strictly, and found that I had 
heretofore been too selfish in my prayers. 
Whilst ever mindful of self, and those 
for whom the tender ties of consanguini- 
ty make it our duty to pray ; as well as 
mankind in general ; yet, I found I had 
not been so incessant in my prayers in 
behalf of the heathen as I should have 
been ; and that I had neglected too much 
that, which from childhood up, had ever 
been clear to me,- — the missionary cause. 
I therefore adopted a more systematic 
plan, namely : — I fixed on a stated time, 
season, and day for prayer to God, in 
behalf of some particular subject ; which 
I found to be greatly to my advantage, 
as my interest in prayer was thereby 



MAEY RANKEST. 145 

much increased, and I became myself 
more spiritual. 

What a delightful privilege it is to 
pray ! When there is no eye to see, and 
no ear to hear, except that of God, we 
may approach His royal Throne, and un- 
bosom our thoughts to Him, without 
fear that our petitions will be rejected. 
How true — 

"While strangers to prayer we're strangers to bliss, 
Heav'n pours its full stream through no medium 

but this; 
And until we the seraph's sweet ecstacy share 
Our chalice of joy must be guarded by prayer." 

Prayer, 0, sweet prayer ! be it ever so 
simple there is nothing like prayer ! 

My health was. rather more delicate at 
this time than it had been during the 
spring and early part of the summer. 
I was greatly troubled with Neuralgia 
and inflammation of the tonsils, from 
which I did not recover until May follow- 
ing. Nor did I gain much in strength 
until in June, when I again became able 
to go out from home. In the latter part 
of June I visited Hollidaysburg. On our 
way thither we met with an accident 
10 



146 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

which might have hurried me, in an in- 
stant, into the presence of the Great 
Judge. The circumstance which gave 
rise to it was this : On coming to a nar- 
row turn in the road, where it was a 
precipice on the lower side, we met a 
large drove of cattle. As there was no 
possibility of turning out of the way, and 
the pony being fractious, and unwilling 
to stand, my friend concluded to move 
slowly through the drove, thinking it 
would be the safer plan. "We got along 
very well until about in its midst, when 
one of the animals, as if determined to 
blockade the way, placed himself cross- 
wise in the road. The shaft of the buggy 
struck his side and broke, which fright- 
ened the horse, and caused him to spring 
to the side of the road next the precipice. 
But, fortunately, he was caught just as 
he was in the act of leaping over the bank. 
Had we gone over, nothing scarcely save 
a miracle, could have saved our lives. I 
was fully^ conscious of our dangerous 
position, but remained calm and compos- 
ed. I did not think at the time that I 



MARY RANKIN. 147 

was in the least frightened; but the pal- 
pitation of my heart soon told me the 
contrary. My friend, when afterwards 
speaking of the accident, asked me what 
I would have thought, had we gone over? 
I replied, that had the accident proved 
fatal, I would have died in that faith, 
which teaches that God doeth all things 
well, 

How great are the mercies of God, and 
His ways past finding out. In this, as 
well as in many other instances, I feel to 
acknowledge the ruling hand of an All- 
wise Providence. 

With the above exception, I had a 
very pleasant visit, and enjoyed it very 
much. While in Hollidaysburg, I had 
the pleasure of attending church with 
Mr. Reed and lady, and heard the Rev. 
Mr. Knight deliver an excellent dis- 
course on practical piety. I visited my 
friends, Dr. C. and R., and made some 
very agreeable acquaintances, among 
whom were the Rev. M. and lady. I 
also enjoyed the privilege of meeting for 
the first time Dr. Coffee, sen., whom I 



148 ATJTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

long had a desire to see, and whose ven- 
erable and sainted appearance made an 
impression that I shall never forget. 
He soon after exchanged time for eterni- 
ty; and is now no doubt enjoying the 
saints' everlasting rest. 

After a visit of ten days or two weeks, 
I started for home,— stayed on my way 
over Sabbath at my friend D. Brown's, 
and heard Rev. Junkin, D. D., preach; 
and with whose discourse I was very 
much pleased. From hence I arrived at 
home in safety, where I found Mrs. Sny- 
der, wife of the Rev. S. S. Snyder, who 
had come to visit me before leaving for 
a mission in Kansas. With this Chris- 
tian lady I had the pleasure of forming 
an acquaintance three or four years prior 
to this time. In her I always found a 
faithful friend and sister. I say sister, 
because as a sister I love her. And, in- 
deed, I would be ungrateful if I did not. 
From our first acquaintance, she mani- 
fested the greatest interest in my happi- 
ness. When sick she would visit me, 
and spend much time with me. Her un- 



MAEY EANKIX. 149 

wearied care and attention as a nurse; 
her kind and sympathizing disposition, 
and her words of comfort and consolation 
have left a deep impression on my heart, 
and won for her an esteem, which noth- 
ing but death can destroy. 

After this visit my health appeared 
much improved, and continued so. Con- 
sequently in September, I was able to 
accompany some friends to a camp-meet- 
ing, — the first and only one that I ever 
had the pleasure of attending. I left 
home on the 9th of September, — went 
some seven or eight miles in a buggy, 
and about twenty miles by railway. So 
the reader may know that my general 
health, and especially my nervous sys- 
tem must have been greatly improved ; 
since at one time the song of the bird 
would startle my nerves ; and now they 
bear the deafening sound of the "Are- 
born, — son of water/' and the roar of the 
train as it pursues its rapid course. 

But the heat and excitement was al- 
most too much for me. I never before 
was so much fatigued as when we arrived 



150 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

at the station. But being still three 
miles from the camp-ground, I did not 
arrive there until the next morning just 
as the services were about to commence. 
The scene was new to me, but soul-in- 
spiring. The very trees appeared to be 
vocal with His praise. I remained there 
until the close of the meeting, on Thurs- 
day ; except at night. Fearing that the 
night air might be injurious tome, I was 
taken every evening but one, to some 
convenient house, but generally to Mrs. 
Ale's, on whose place the meeting was 
held, and in whose family I was treated 
with every possible mark of kindness. 

On one of the evenings above referred 
to, I was taken to the house of Mr. F. 
With this family I had been acquainted 
about fourteen years previously. Since 
that time, I knew nothing of them. 
When I knew them, they were not pro- 
fessors of religion, but attended occasion- 
ally the public means of grace. But 
now they both professed religion. The 
lady informed me, that having been at 
our house on a certain occasion when the 



MAEY RANKIN. 151 

Lord blessed me so that I could rejoice 
in His love, they became convinced of the 
reality of experimental religion; and from 
that time determined to seek the Lord, 
And although they removed from our 
neighborhood, conviction followed them 
until they were both happily converted 
to God. This news to me was indeed 
soul-cheering. I felt to thank God, that 
my sufferings had not been altogether in 
vain. And I thought then, that if God, 
through patient suffering and resignation, 
would make me instrumental in bring- 
ing but one soul into heaven, I would be 
well recompensed for all my sufferings. 

I enjoyed the camp-meeting exquisite- 
ly, especially the Love Feast and Com- 
munion season ; this being only the sec- 
ond Love Feast I ever was privileged to 
attend ; and the first in which I partici- 
pated. It was indeed a feast of love to 
me, — a time long to be remembered, on 
account of the Divine presence, which I 
felt on that occasion. 

The last night of the meeting, I re- 
mained on the ground. The weather 



152 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

being fine, and feeling anxious to spend 
the rest of the evening with m}^ friend, 
Mrs. Snyder (as they intended leaving 
the next morning for the Kansas Mission), 
I concluded to take the consequences and 
spend the night in the friendly group. 

On this evening Bro. R. delivered a 
very interesting address from the words: 
"The harvest is past, the summer is 
ended, and we are not saved." To me 
the closing scene of the meeting was 
truly very solemn and affecting. While 
the friends of the meeting took the part- 
ing hand, I was forcibly reminded of the 
Judgment Day — that Bay of Final Sepa- 
ration. While my eye followed the pro- 
cession, a very solemn thought occurred 
to my mind — -shall these happy spirits 
all meet again on Canaan's peaceful 
shore ; or shall some of us be missing ? 
Oh! how soul-oppressing the thought. 
And yet it is to be feared that many, 
alas ! will be lost. "Who among us shall 
be saved ? and who among us shall dwell 
with unquenchable fire? " is the language 
of inspiration. But 0, how heedless 



MARY RANKIX. 153 

many are of the warning ! If the ques- 
tion, "Lord is it I ?" were oftener ap- 
plied to the heart, many would not live 
in open defiance of God, as they now do. 

At this meeting I made some very 
pleasant acquaintances, particularly that 
of Rev. J. Walker and his inestimable 
lady; and Mrs. Ale's family. Here we 
but meet to part again, perhaps to meet 
no more forever ; but nevertheless, it is 
a great privilege, for life is made the 
sweeter by it ; and the mind never reverts 
to associations of the kind without the 
most delightful emotions. 

In the morning I parted with my dear 
friends; and, Oh! what a parting it was! 
particularly that with Mrs. Snyder! We 
parted in all probability to meet no more, 
until we shall meet in the eternal world ! 

On the morning on which the meeting 
closed, my friend, Mrs. Bell, having 
kindly sent for me, I paid her a short 
visit before returning home. She is the 
friend of whom I spoke in the commence- 
ment of this narrative, as being the one 
to whom I feel myself indebted for the 



154 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 



good example she set me, and the many 
kind admonitions I received from her. 
In her family I was treated with the great- 
est kindness. The interview brought to 
my mind past enjoyments, which had 
long been forgotten. One remark made 
by her, I especially remember, namely, 
when speaking of the past, she said, — 
" Little did I think, when in our early 
youth we were laying plans for the fu- 
ture, that I should have a house so long, 
before you would be a visitor at it ; but 
so it is, we often lay plans, but (rod has 
the disposal of them." 

After having enjoyed a very pleasant 
visit, I returned home that evening much 
fatigued. But the quiet of my mountain 
home soon restored the wonted energy 
of my enfeebled frame; and I felt the better 
and the happier for my visit to the camp. 
Indeed it seemed to be greatly beneficial 
to my health, and I was therefore en- 
couraged to venture out from home 
again. Consequently, in October, I 
made another visit to Hollidaysburg. 
This too, was a pleasant visit ; it was at 



MAEY RANKIX, 155 

thai season of the year which to me has 
always been impressive — when nature is 
donning her dress of many colors. The 
mountain scenery, 0, how grand; and how 
suggestive of thoughts of the greatness, 
goodness, wisdom, power and glory of 
God! This season of the year, which is 
to many a sad and gloomy one, has al- 
ways been pleasant and instructive to me. 
The dry and withered leaf — emblem of 
our decay — nurtures and protects the 
fallen seedling, — germ of future life, fu- 
ture beauty, and future fragrance. How 
strikingly emblematic of our future! 
We, like autumn's foliage are passing 
away ; this well wrought frame is destin- 
ed to decay, and will soon disappear. 
But after having enjoyed a quiet repose 
in the grave, we again, like nature, shall 
spring into Tievv life and glory. 

During this visit the Annual Asricul- 
tural Fair was held at Hollidaysburg. 
Through the persuasion of some of my 
friends, I was present once. Here, as in 
all such places, were some things to be 
admired, and some to be condemned. 



156 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

So far as art seemed to rival nature, I 
enjoyed the scene very well. That which 
shocked my feelings the most, was the 
conduct of some, who should be classed 
with the noblest works of Grod ; but, alas ! 
how fallen and degraded ! From a de- 
scription of the above scene, I will pass 
on to one more congenial to my feelings. 

On the following Sabbath I attended 
church twice at the Lutheran meeting- 
house; heard Rev. K. in the morning on 
the resurrection, from John 5: 28-29; 
one of the most cheering doctrines of the 
Bible. I also heard Bishop Potter of 
the Episcopalian church in the evening. 
The next day I visited friend R.'s; Tues- 
day started by railway for home ; but 
stopped in Tyrone, where I spent a week 
at Rev. Mr. Keesy's. Whilst there I 
heard the Rev. K. deliver several lectures. 
With these lectures I was much pleased, 
but especially the one on the Bible. 

This was truly a delightful visit. How 
beautiful the rural scenery with which 
this place is surrounded ! Those ro- 
mantic mountains, at this interesting 



MAEY EANKIX. 157 

season of the year, were clothed in all 
the varied tints of autumn. How grand 
and sublime the sight ! One in which the 
poet must have been revelling when he 
said,— 

"See all nature fading, — dying,— 
Silent all things seem to mourn, 
Life from vegetation flying, 

Brings to mind tbemoldering urn." 

Thus far I can enter into the feelings 
of the poet ; but when he continues — 

"Autumn gives me melancholy, — 

Strikes dejection through my soul; — 
Whilst I sit my fate deploring, 
"Waves of sorrow o'er me roll ;— 

I most heartily dissent from him ; for 
to me, autumn is any thing else than pro- 
ductive of melancholy. To such, I sup- 
pose, the autumnal tints which clothe 
the earth in such beauty, must appear 
like funeral guests clad in gorgeous wed- 
ding attire. The poet still continues — 

^Lq ! I hear the air resounding— 
With expiring insects cry : 
Ah ! their moans to me how wounding, 
Emblems of my aged sigh." 

These moans, to him "so wounding," 



158 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

appear to me to be only the praise of 
Him at whose bidding they teemed into 
existence. After enjoying every pleas- 
ure they were capable of enjoying, and 
fulfilling the end of their being, they are 
permitted to pass away without feeling 
the chill of the wintry blast. Surely, 
methinks, these moans are but the praise 
of animated nature on her return to un- 
disturbed repose. 
Again he says,— 

"What to ma are autumn's treasures, 
Since I know no earthly joy: — 
Long I've lost all youthful pleasures- 
Time must youth and health destroy." 

Here again his sentiments do not agree 
with mine. For though long since I 
lost health and youthful pleasures ; yet 
autumn has treasures of joy for me still. 

Some, I suppose, will think my mind 
of rather a peculiar cast, as in this respect 
it seems to differ from most of others. 
But I thank God for the peculiarity ; for 
it enables me not to look only at the dark 
side, but at the bright side of things also. 
Had it not been for this, I, of all crea- 






MARY RANKIN. 159 

tures, must have been the most miserable. 
Nipped in my youth by the untimely 
frost of affliction, imprisoned as in a 
solitary cell, chained for years to my 
couch of suffering, shut in from all socie- 
ty, except that of a few friends, and de- 
prived of almost every earthly pleasure, 
how sad would have been my condition, 
had not Providence prepared me for it, 
by causing my thoughts to flow in this 
channel ; and thus enabling me to find 
the true Philosopher's Stone, which turns 
every thing into gold. 

After spending a very pleasant week 
in Bro. Keesy's kind family, where noth- 
ing was left undone to make me comfort- 
able and happy, I took my leave and 
again repaired to my rural home. 

The autumn scenery spread out before 
my view on my return home, was to 
me grand beyond description; and its 
drama closed with the most delightful 
view of the setting sun, that it ever was 
my privilege to gaze upon. The evening- 
was calm; and the chariot of the King of 
Day, rolling its wheels in solar fire, had 



160 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

reached the summit of the everlasting 
hills ; when, amidst the splendor of his 
reflected glory, he suddenly disappeared. 
Around him had been thrown a drapery 
of fleecy clouds, richly fringed with gold 
and purple. And as he sunk beneath 
waves of that golden sea of light, and 
somber twilight cast her looks upon the 
now expiring giant, lo! night, like a 
sable ghost is seen climbing the oriental 
hills ; and with stealthy footsteps creep- 
ing through the valley's depth, and 
throwing her nocturnal shades over the 
vast arena, — she hid from my enraptur- 
ed vision, the glory, the beauty, and the 
sublimity of the scenery on which my 
eyes had been feasting, — just as I arrived 
within the precints of my home. I felt 
happy that Providence had favored me 
with a safe return; and that my visit was 
made so pleasant. Here, however, I 
found my dear mother quite unwell, 
which curtailed my happiness some. 
But my visit was delightful, and my 
health was much improved. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

AT HOME.— RESUMED MY STUDIES.— MOTHER MEETS 
WITH A SERIOUS ACCIDENT.— HEALTH MORE DELI- 
CATE, &c. 

I now again took up my studies and 
pursued them with ever fresh delight. 
Their abandonment was the only thing 
which I regretted during my visits. I 
had become so accustomed to them, 
that, when 1 laid them aside, there 
always seemed to be something wanting, 
which even the society of friends could 
not fully supply. From this time, my 
health seemed steadily to improve, until 
December; when it again seemed some- 
what to decline. This, I thought, was, 
at least in part, occasioned from fatigue 
and anxiety of mind which I underwent in 
attending to my mother, who, by a fall, had 
her arm broken. By care and the use of 
a little medicine, I was well enough, how- 
ever, by January, to betaken out a num- 



162 AUTOBIOGKAPHY OF 

ber of times during the sleighing season. 
The snow of seventeen winters had fall- 
en, since I was able to do so before. In- 
deed, so long had it been, that I scarcely 
remember what the enjoyment of a 
sleigh-ride was. 

One of my sleighing visits was made 
to my old friend and physician, Dr. 
Hoffman, of Huntingdon, who was then 
in ill health ; but we found him cheerful 
and happy. 0, what a privilege to visit 
this aged, — I should say, sainted friend ! 
While holding sweet counsel with him, 
and beholding his pallid and wan coun- 
tenance, how vividly did recollections of 
the past spring up in my mind, — of days 
gone by when he kindly sat watching at 
my couch of pain, or endeavoring to palli- 
ate my sufferings by administering to my 
wants. And now to behold his suffer- 
ing and feeble condition — himself just 
now on the verge of eternity — Oh ! how 
my heart yearned within me with sympa- 
thy in his behalf! But the fiat had gone 
forth, and he was doomed to the grave. 
Oh ! Death how relentless thou art ! 



MARY RANKIN. 163 

''No respect I pay to persons,— 

All I claim— ail are rny right; — 
Wisdom's sons and aged follies, 
Sons of darkness, heirs of light !" 

After remaining a da)' and a night 
with this kind family, I took my leave of 
them (and of him for the last time), fear- 
ing as I did so, that such would be the 
case ; yet hoping that it might not be. 
God, who doeth all things well, saw fit 
to remove him in May following. Oh ! 
what a pang ran through my soul when 
his death was communicated to me; not- 
withstanding, I felt, that our loss was his 
infinite gain. " He has passed o'er the 
stream, he has reached the bright shore ; 
for he fell like a martyr," while battling 
with sin and the world ! 

Before leaving Huntingdon, I visited 
an aged relative, whose bark had been 
on the rough sea of life more than eighty 
years. I do not remember that I ever 
saw her before. At the time of my visit, 
she was prostrated on a bed of affliction, 
from which she was released by the hand 
of death in a week or two afterwards. 



164 AXJTOBIOGKAPHY OF 

From the latter place, I returned 
home. On the way I stopped over night 
at my friend Walter's, where I had to 
remain several days on account of the 
inclemency of the weather. 

The weather having become more 
pleasant, I returned home on Friday, the 
9th of February. I appeared so much 
better now, that I was induced next day 
to take another ride of some fifteen or 
sixteen miles distant, in company with 
my brother J., and returned home the 
following Monday. I had a pleasant 
visit, but felt somewhat disappointed, as 
I had left home with the intention of go- 
ing to a Quarterly meeting, but failed to 
get there. For several weeks afterwards 
my health appeared to be quite good. 

About the first of March, I began to 
feel unusual pain and uneasiness in my 
side. Also pain and a sense of fullness 
in my head. And about the middle of 
this month I took a severe cold, which 
settled on my breast. From this time 
my health began gradually to decline. 
In consequence of the pain in my head, 



MARY KAXKIX. 165 

I had to abandon my studies. I now 
again had recourse to medicine, but it 
seemed of little avail. 

About this time I received a kind in- 
vitation from my friend Dr. R., -to pay 
them a visit, a distance of one hundred 
and fifty miles ; which I intended to do, 
in hopes that it might be a benefit to my 
health ; and also that I might have the 
advantage of his medical advice. A 
favorable opportunity having presented 
itself, I had made my arrangements to 
start on Monday, the 18th of May ; but I 
took quite ill the evening previous, so that 
on the next morning I was not able to 

CD 

be out of bed. Viewing this circum- 
stance in a natural sense, it would seem 
as though Providence had a delight in 
crossing my pathway to health. Just 
when nature was being clothed in her 
emerald attire, and the woodland vocal 
with the feathery choir, and the air re- 
dolent with the perfume of flowers, and 
on the eve of a visit that promised so 
much pleasure, I was again prostrated 
on a bed of affliction and suffering. 



166 



AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 



But shall I say that His dealings are 
hard? JSTo; I am His, let Him do as 
seemeth Him good. I am willing that 
He shall choose all mv changes for me, 
knowing that all things shall work to- 
gether for good. Had I anticipated this 
change beforehand, I have no doubt, I 
would have felt greatly disappointed. 
But as it was, I was suddenly taken so 
ill, that for several days, I scarcely 
thought of the contemplated visit. 

Owing to the peculiarities of my con- 
stitution, I hardly knew how to decide 
on a physician. My former attendant, 
Dr. H. being sick, and Dr. R. having 
moved away, I at length decided on Dr. 
Good, which, indeed, I now look upon as 
a providential occurrence. His judicious 
and careful treatment, together with the 
interest he manifested in my behalf, 
merits for him my warmest gratitude. 
Nothing was left undone, that could be 
done, to restore my health. And not 
satisfied to rely on his own opinion in 
reference to the treatment of my case, he 
called in several other physicians for 



MARY RAXKIX. 167 

consultation. But it appeared as if un- 
relentino- Disease had ag&iri marked me 
for his victim ; and therefore bid defiance 
to their efforts. Mv disease being; differ- 
ent from what it had previously been, it 
required the greater care and attention 
on the part of my physicians. Owing to 
the nature of mv disease, mv sufferings 
were of the most excruciating character. 
Throughout my affliction, it would ap- 
pear that one disease has always been 
the means of bringing on another: so in 
this instance. For when my sufferings 
seemed to be as much as nature could 
endure, inflammation of the stomach 
took place. For three weeks (minus two 
days) the vomiting continued almost in- 
cessantly night and day. What I nqw 
endured, I will not attempt to describe. 
Indeed I do not know how it was possi- 
ble for a human being to endure so much, 
and vet live. During all this time. I 
was unable to take any nourishment, ex- 
cept a little cream, with a few drops of 
wine. This with ice, broken in small 
particles, was all that I attempted to take. 



168 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

I remember an incident which occur- 
red at this time. While suffering from 
a burning thirst, which the small parti- 
cles of ice, my physician allowed me to 
have, failed to allay, I beseechingly re- 
quested him to fill the glass with water 
and allow me to quench my thirst. He 
said, "No Mary, it will make you sick.'' 
To which I rather impatiently replied, 
"I am sick." For a moment I felt that if 
strength enabled me, I would grasp the 
glass, and quaff its contents; but his 
kind and gentle remark, " I fear it will 
make you worse," alloyed the tumult of 
my feelings. Although I was suffering 
from thirst, and feeling as though I could 
not live without that cooling draught, I 
would not then have taken it, if it had 
been offered to me. I felt that it was 
duty, and not a desire to torture, that 
caused him to refuso it ; and a feeling of 
gratitude and submission came over me, 
which I cannot describe. I felt thankful 
that I had a physician, who could, when 
duty required, say "No" This act, 
small as it was, strengthened my confi- 



MARY RANKIN. 169 

dence more in him, than anything which 
had previously transpired. 

The last two days during which the 
vomiting continued, my suffering amount- 
ed to a perfect agony. My nervous sys- 
tem also gave way, under the retching 
and straining ; and a sensation of numb- 
ness came over my entire system, so that 
it affected my hearing and sight. When 
spoken to in a common conversational 
tone, my hearing would become so con- 
fused, that I did not know what was 
spoken. But when addressed in a low 
whisper, I could hear distinctly. For 
several days my sight was also so much 
affected, that I could scarcely discern 
one object from another, even when close 
at my bedside. And after it became to 
improve, it was so scattered that one ob- 
ject appeared like two. 

This appeared to be the greatest afflic- 
tion that ever came over me. During 
all my sufferings, I never had experien- 
ced any thing of the kind. The sight and 
hearing, 0, what blessings ! I can ap- 
preciate them better now, than I ever 



170 AUTO-BIGGKAPHY OF 

could before. In two weeks afterwards, 
I could again discern the figures on the 
clock, and 0, what pleasure it afforded 
me, and how thankful I felt! 

After suffering from severe vomiting 
for such an almost incredible length of 
time, it was finally checked by administer- 
ing small doses of creosote. How strange, 
that after suffering so much, for such a 
length of time, from so severe an attack 
of inflammation, that I should be relieved 
by means so simple ! 

It seems, that in my case, whenever 
disease has reached its worst stage, there 
always is some means found out to re- 
lieve me. 

My nervous system had again become 
so extremely sensitive during this attack, 
that even the songs of the bird sensibly 
affected me. But after I became conva- 
lescent, I again found myself listening to 
the feathery choristers with pleasure, and 
felt thankful that I was not deprived of 
that pleasure. 

Another source of annoyance was the 
locusts. Just seventeen years, having 



MAEY RANKIN. 171 

completed their cycles, since I was first 
cast upon a bed of pain, these periodical 
visitors again returned this year, (1855). 
I could scarcely realize that so long a 
period of time had since elapsed, but the 
increase of pain which their harsh and 
incessant songs occasioned me, settled the 
matter beyond the possibility of a doubt. 
Yes, seventeen long years — years of great 
suffering most of the time, had since roll- 
ed their ample rounds ; and still, as it 
seemed, my sufferings were not at an end. 
But thanks be to God, that I am able 
through grace to say, "Not my will, 0, 
God, but thine be done." 

Perhaps the reader would like to know 
how my mind was exercised during this 
severe trial. At first I thought it could 
not be that I should again be taken 
down, after enjoying comparatively good 
health for only so short a period of time. 
But I soon felt reconciled to my destiny, 
and my whole soul was lost in a sweet 
submission to His will. And although 
my sufferings were great, — at times al- 
most insupportable, — yet I found His 



172 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

grace sufficient for me. The only thing 
that rested heavily upon my mind, and 
gave me uneasiness, when nearing the 
Jordan of death, was, having neglected 
to take notes of my Christian Experience, 
and the dealings of God with me in my 
afflictions. I now, however, promised, 
that should I live to recover sufficient 
strength, I would no longer neglect this 
duty. After making this vow, my mind 
became calm and easy. I felt then, that 
if God would call me hence, my previous 
recreancy in the respect above alluded to, 
would not be imputed to me. And al- 
though I had quite a desire to depart 
and be with Christ, which, I knew " was 
far better " than to be suffering as I did; 
yet I felt an entire resignation to the 
will of God ; having no will of my own, 
and desiring only, " to do any thing, to be 
any thing, or to suffer any thing" by 
which His name might be glorified. 

On the day of which I have spoken 
before, when my sight and hearing were 
impaired ; and the spirit seemed to be 
fluttering to be released from this house 



MAEY RANKIN. 173 

of clay ; and when I felt as if my end had 
come ; — I remember of hearing a friend 
express a desire that I might still recov- 
er; saying that he could not think of 
giving me up. But, in view of what I 
then suffered, I thought it was cruel to 
wish me to live. 

The language of my heart at that time, 
is thus beautifully expressed by the poet : 

"Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, Oh ! quit this mortal frame, 
Lingering, hoping, fluttering, flying; — 
Oh ! the pain, — the bliss of dying ! 
Cease fond nature — cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life ! 

"Hark ! they whisper ! angels say, 
Sister Spirit, come away ! — 
What is this absorbs me quite — 
Steals my senses, shuts my sight ! 
Drowns my spirit, draws my breath ! 
Tell me, my soul, — can this be death ! 

"The world recedes — it disappears ! 
Heaven opens on my eyes ! my ears 
With sounds seraphic ring ! 
Lend — lend your wings ! I mount, — I fly ! — 
0, grave where is thy victory ! 
0, death where is thy sting ! " 



174 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF 

Although I was willing to depart, and 
thought it almost impossible to live ; yet 
it appeared that the Lord designed it 
otherwise. My cup of suffering, — or my 
mission was not yet filled. And hence, 
after enduring almost every thing but 
death ; I was (as before stated) relieved 
by the use of creosote. 

As might be supposed, I still suffered 
greatly from prostration ; and a sense of 
numbness, which pervaded my entire 
nervous system, and caused me the most 
unpleasant sensations whenever a hand 
was laid on me to change my position. 
I cannot compare the feeling to any thing 
else than a limb in which the blood has 
become stagnated; — or as it is generally 
termed — "gone to sleep." 

In the course of a few days after this, 
I however, commenced slowly to gather 
strength, and appeared for some days 
much easier. But a quantity of bilious 
fluid, having accumulated in the liver, 
and discharging itself through the stom- 
ach, had a very deleterious effect upon 
me. After this, however, I again be- 



MAEY RANKIN. 175 

came convalescent, and continued so for 
several weeks. 

But now the left lobe of my liver be- 
came affected, and was threatened with 
an abscess. This was followed in a week 
or so afterward by Biliary Calculi (Grail 
Stone) forming and passing, from which 
I suffered the most excruciating pain. 
More so then, indeed, than previously 
when suffering from the same cause ; as 
at this time it appeared to affect my 
nerves. Those of my left hand, and right 
limb, became so very painful and sensi- 
tive as sometimes to cause me to shriek 
wdth agony, when any thing came in con- 
tact with them. 

And as if to add to my tribulations 
and misfortunes, my physician met with 
a serious accident, which for several 
weeks deprived me of his valuable 
services ; but this desideratum was as far 
as possible supplied, by the generous 
services of Dr. Feay. 

From this last affliction, though so 
distressingly painful, I learned a lesson 
of gratitude, that I should not have learn- 



176 AUTOBIOGEAPHY OF 

ed without it. And indeed, throughout 
this entire affliction, God's dealings with 
me were so different from what they had 
previously been ; and my sufferings, in 
many respects so much greater, that it 
added quite an interesting page to the 
history of my life. For example : in the 
first place, my hearing was affected for 
sometime, which it never before had been ; 
and therefore, I never knew before how 
great a blessing this sense was, nor could 
I have appreciated its use as I now can ; 
although I had previously thought that 
I could. 

I remember, once, when suffering much 
from extreme nervous sensibility, hearing 
a person remark (who, I suppose, sym- 
pathized deeply with me), "what a bless- 
ing it would be if Mary could not hear ; 
for then the noise would not affect her as 
it now does." I was startled at the ex- 
pression, and considered it impious and 
even cruel : for, although my sufferings 
were greatly augmented through that 
sense ; yet, I would rather suffer the most 
exquisite pain, than part with any of 



MARY EANKIN. 17 



rr 



those happy mediums, through which I 
received so much of my consolation and 
delight. For were it not for this sense, 
I would be deprived of holding sweet 
converse even with my friends ; which, 
indeed, is one of my greatest sources of 
pleasure. ! the joy that I have often 
felt w T hen I heard dear ones offer up their 
fervent prayers to a Throne of Grace for 
me. But now, that "the daughters of 
music were brought low," I for the first 
time was made fully sensible of the great- 
ness of this blessing ; for which my heart 
w r as, therefore, the more grateful. 

My sight had previously, at times, been 
quite weak ; but still I could distinctly 
discern every object in the room until 
now ; and therefore I could now place a 
higher estimate upon this faculty also, 
than before. 

And inasmuch as my sense of feeling 
had also become very delicate, I saw 
more forcibly than ever, the greatness 
and goodness of G-od as displayed in the 
construction of this curiously and finely 
wrought fabric — our system ! 
12 



178 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

What pleasurable emotions are the 
nerves of sensation capable of producing. 
Through their assistance we are able to 
choose that which will add to our com- 
fort and happiness; and to reject that 
which would be annoying to us. We 
frequently receive these blessings as a 
matter-of-course, and therefore too often 
scarcely bestow a thought on Him from 
whom thev are derived. 

Oh ! Lord, may these afflictions teach 
me humility ; teach me gratitude ; teach 
me love ; and teach me praise as nothing 
else can teach me ; and thereby may the 
great purpose for which they were doubt- 
less visited upon me be accomplished ! 

Taking this view of the subject, that 
which at first appeared almost unendur- 
able, and made me inclined to ask, Why 
was it thus ? could be borne with patient 
resignation ; and instead of murmuring, 
I felt to praise God for it. 

In this condition I remained for some 
time without being in the least benefited 
by the most diligent attentionsof a kind 
physician, or the most untiring assidui- 



MARY BANKET* 179 

ties of a mother and a sister's lore. At 
last ether and chloroform were adminis- 
tered, which appeared to soothe the af- 
fected parts : and from these, together 
w T ith the insulation of my bed, I experi- 
enced the first relief. From this time 
my health began to improve gradually, 
but slowly ; until about the last of Octo- 

«y J 

ber, when I was again reduced very low. 
by the forming and passing of Biliary 
Calculi, — or gall stone. My sufferings at 
this time were greater, if possible, than at 
any previous attack from the same cause. 
This was followed by a copious discharge 
of fluid from the liver in a few davs 
afterwards, which greatly increased my 
prostration. My physician changed my 
medicines, and I again appeared to im- 
prove, and continued to do so with some 
slight variations, until the last night of 
December 1855, when I was again simi- 
larly attacked. And while suffering the 
most excruciating pain, ! what thoughts 
passed in rapid succession through my 
mind ! The past — the almost forgotten 
past — how vividly it loomed up before 



180 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

me ; and in particular the many incidents 
which occurred during the year just 
closed. The year was commenced with 
high prospects of health and usefulness; 
but, alas ! as the early dew r , these pros- 
pects soon passed away. Disease had 
again marked me for its victim, and I 
was once more doomed to suffer. 

But how kindly has an allwise Provi- 
dence ordered, that these things should 
be hid from us — a fore-knowledge of 
which would in some instances, no doubt, 
render us unhappy. But while I deplore 
the loss of my health, I would not be for- 
getful of the many mercies of which I 
have been the recipient from his Father- 
ly hand. Although He afflicts, he does 
not leave us alone to suffer, but more than 
makes amends by giving us a double 
portion of his Holy Spirit ; and thus en- 
ables us to bear them. 

Nor is this all, — He raised me up kind 
and sympathizing friends, who, by their 
kind and generous assiduities, have large- 
ly participated in my sufferings. Of 
these I might mention many ; but of my 



MAEY RANKIN. 181 

kind physicians I would speak in particu- 
lar. But words are inadequate to express 
the debt of gratitude I owe them ; for 
their sympathy as friends, and their dili- 
gent care and strict attention as physi- 
cians. Language fails when I would ut- 
ter my feelings ; but, warm from the deep, 
gushing fountains of the heart, can they 
be poured forth in earnest prayer for the 
blessing of God to rest continually upon 
them, and more than make amends for 
all their acts of kindness, by granting 
unto them the joys of his Holy Spirit in 
time, and a full fruition of that blessed- 
ness which remaineth for the people of 
God in the world to come. Amen* 



PART SECOJSD. 

CHAPTER I. 

STATEMENT OF S. M. ROSS, M. D. 

[Note. — The following communication was kindly 
furnished us by Dr. Ross, who was solicited to con- 
tribute something to this volume. It will serve to 
fill up an important period of several years, in the 
life of Miss Rankin. Dr. R. was her physician for a 
considerable length of time. His faithful and effi- 
cient services during one of her most severe and 
protracted seasons of affliction, have secured for him 
her warmest friendship, and lasting gratitude, as 
well as the esteem and confidence of her many 
friends. 

Mary recovered whilst under his care, and after- 
wards enjoyed a season of comparatively better 
health than she had done for some years previous. 

D. R. G.] 



In pursuance of your design to record 
the sufferings and religious experience 
of one of Gt>d 5 s afflicted children, for the 
edification of Saints and the comforting 
of those who mourn,— I address you by 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY, &C. 183 

way of narrating some of Mary's afflic- 
tions, during a time when her almost 
pulseless fingers were unable to fill the 
blank pages of her diary. 

In October, 1851, she was attacked 
with Hooping Cough ; and in two weeks 
after, with Infiammatian of the Lungs. 
Her sufferings from the former disease 
were considerable ; but when the latter 
enemy invaded, her pain was almost in- 
tolerable. Imagine her prostrated upon 
her couch, with her hands upon her 
bosom pressing it down, so as to contract 
as much as possible the space occupied 
by the lungs, to prevent the inhalation 
of air, which would feed the inflamma- 
tion. Imagine also that you see her 
holding her breath, and the muscles of 
her throat, to suppress a rising cough; 
which would produce vomiting and faint- 
ing every time it occurred. To this add 
the wakefulness of her nervous system to 
every noise, which, if loud, caused almost 
fatal Syncope ; — and you have an imper- 
fect conception of her complicated agony. 
I say complicated, for few have ever had 



184 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

a greater complication of sufferings than 
the subject of this Memoir. 

You may ask, in what spirit she bore 
her sufferings ? No one acquainted with 
her could doubt as to how she would 
bear them; for she knew no will but her 
Master's,— she was willing to lose every 
thing that she might win Christ. She 
would endure any privations, if she could 
but enjoy His approving smiles. 

But she was called to much severer 
trials of her patience; for when the inflam- 
mation had partially subsided, which she 
had hoped would terminate her misery, 
she was attacked with Scarlet Fever, 
which was then epidemic to the neighbor- 
hood. And here commenced a new era 
in her afflictions. Her throat became 
very much inflamed; and her tonsils 
swollen, until deglutition was rendered 
impossible for three days. This was a 
crisis most distressingly severe, and 
nature almost revolted at the ordeal 
through which it was called to pass. Her 
parched throat could not receive one 
drop of water to cool it. Her tongue 



MAKY KANKUNT. 185 

almost clove to the roof of her mouth. 
Nature seemed to say, "11137 sufferings are 
greater than I can bear." And yet she 
could say, notwithstanding, " I'll praise 
my Maker while I've breath." To her 
physician she said, "Pray for me, that 
my patience fail not." 

Gratitude seemed to be a constituent 
of her nature. To her friends she never 
failed to express her thanks for the least 
favor. When one brought her a basket 
of ice, which she used to cool her fever, 
she kissed his hand ; and it seemed to 
grieve her when he refused to call it a 
favor. To a friend she remarked, after 
her throat had been lanced and she could 
again swallow, "I'll never take a drink 
of water hereafter without thanking my 
kind Benefactor for so great a blessing." 

Her throat continued swollen, and her 
tonsils suppurated and were lanced eleven 
times within a year ; yet she endured it 
without a murmur. At one time whilst 
deglutition continued to be very difficult, 
she said. "My heart should repine, were 
it not for the precious promises of Divine 



.186 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

Truth." She then repeated one of them; 
" I will .support thee ; yea I will strength- 
en thee, and uphold thee," and while re- 
peating it, her soul seemed to be kindled 
with enraptured devotion. 

How mysterious and yet how merciful 
are the dispensations of Providence to- 
wards His children ! After their fidelity 
has been most sharply tried ; after He 
has led them through a valley as dark as 
the shadow of death, and concealed every 
manifestation of His protection, so that 
they are ready to conclude that He has 
said of them as He did of Ephraim, "let 
them alone," — He smiles upon them, and 
in mercy upholds them with His ever- 
lasting arm. But He often waits till 
they feel themselves sinking beneath the 
waves of affliction and cry, "Lord save 
or we perish." 

The subject of this Narrative, instead 
of being released after repeatedly pass- 
ing through the furnace of affliction, 
was now called upon to pass it with 
Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. She 
was but partially relieved of her throat, 



MARY RANKIN. 187 

when the inflammation located itself in 
her bowels ; every symptom of which in- 
dicated a fatal termination. Her suffer- 
ings were so excruciating, that she often 
shrieked with pain. Each succeeding 
pulsation seemed lessoned in force and 
frequency; and she at last approached 
the goal, where we thought her sorrows 
would be ended, and her soul be forever 
at rest. Her physician pronounced her 
dying, and her friends and relatives were 
called in to see her breathe her last. 
Till my senses are benumbed by the icy 
hand of death, I shall never forget that 
solemn scene. 

Pause with me for a moment to con- 
template its solemn aspects. There lay 
the sufferer writhing with the throes of 
dissolution, yet not a murmur escaped her 
lips. She now only expected to be re- 
lieved, when the weary soul had bursted its 
chains ; and therefore awaited the desired 
period for the termination of her pain. 
She only would have used the petition 
of our suffering Savior in the garden of 
(xethsemane, " Father if it is possible let 



188 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

this cup pass from me ; nevertheless not 
my will, but thine be done." 

But, behold her lying upon the verge 
of the grave ! The door of its gloomy 
prison, stood wide open to receive her. 
The Grim Monster, with distended jaws 
gaped to devour her. Yet she heeded 
him not ; for nothing could divert her at- 
tention until her last sad duty was per- 
formed. Having gathered her friends 
to her bedside, she requested one of them 
to sing, "Ye angels who stand round the 
throne,' 7 during which her soul seemed 
absorbed in the vision of eternal and in- 
effable glories. And when the singer 
came to the last verse, her spirit seemed 
to swell with a new impulse, and to soar 
higher upon the wings of faith, until she 
longed for her attachment to earth to be 
severed — that she might fly away and be 
at rest. When the hymn was conclud- 
ed, she told her mother to lay her head 
upon her bosom for the last time. Then 
her emotions choked her utterance. The 
remembrance of nights of watchfulness, 
and days of anxiety, endeared by pro- 



MARY RANKIN. 189 

tracted suffering, was too much for 
her. 

But life was ebbing, and she must exe- 
cute the task. She thanked her for her 
thousand kindnesses, invoked the bless- 
ing of her Master upon her blossomed 
head ; and committed her to her brother 
for protection and sustenance : and at the 
same time comforted her with the assur- 
ance that soon her race would be ended, 
and they would then meet where no sick- 
ness, nor sorrow could mar their happi- 
ness, or separate them from each other's 
society, while eternal ages roll on. She 
then addressed her two brothers, one of 
whom professed a saving interest in 
Christ. Him she exhorted to work faith- 
fully in his Master's vineyard, while 
his days were but a hand's breadth. 
The other she embraced with all the fer- 
vency of affection, — told him she had 
long prayed for his conversion — asked 
him why he staid out of the fold as a 
wanderer, when the Shepherd had called 
him to come in? and besought him, by 
the fear of eternal punishment, by the 



190 AUTO-BIOGEAPHY OF 

reward of eternal happiness, and the 
hope of meeting his devoted sister, to 
prepare to meet his God. 

She took an affectionate leave of all 
present ; exhorting her youthful compan- 
ions to seek their enjoyments in the 
cultivation of piety and a life void of 
offense towards God and man ; — exacting- 
promises from them, that they would 
never engage in dancing again, which 
seemed to be their besetting sin. 

To a professor of religion who had 
committed the same offense, she said, 
" Do live a consistent Christian, and not 
disgrace the worthy name whereby you 
are called ! " 

She continued in alternations of Syn- 
cope and resuscitation for a period of 
twenty-four hours ; administering conso- 
lation to her weeping friends during her 
revivals, or expressing her longings to 
leave this suffering tenement and be with 
Christ. 

At one time, awaking from a long 
swoon, she opened her eyes upon those 
around her, who thought that the spirit 



MARY RANKIN. 191 

had fled, and in her sweetest accents of 
love, while her countenance was radiant 
with delight — she said, sing — 

"Shed not a tear o'er your friend's early beir, 
When lam gone." 

But the shock had expended all its 
force, and nature still struggled with its 
antagonist until it vanquished him. She 
still lives, a victim of suffering ; but a 
monument of amazing grace ! 

When the Peritoneal Inflammation be- 
gan to subside, by metastisis, her liver be- 
came the seat of disease; as if her enemy 
had still conspired to destroy her peace, 
and extort a murmur against her indul- 
gent Parent. 

But it could only produce the physical 
derangement; her mental nature still in- 
spired a celestial atmosphere, and in a 
firm reliance upon the promises of God 
she could say, — " Though Thou slay me, 
yet will I trust in Thee." 

She labors now under a chronic en- 
largement of the liver which causes a 
great deal of suffering and prostration; 
yet she leans upon the arm of her Deliv- 



192 AUTQ-BIOGRAJPHY OF 

erer, and in her own language, "her 
peace flows like a river." 

S. M. ROSS, M. D. 



CHAPTER II. 

EXTRACTS FROM MY JOURNAL. 

January 1st, 1856. — -My mind was 
calm and reflective. Suffered greatly 
the night previous from irritation pro- 
duced by the passing of Biliary Calculi; 
felt as if on the brink of eternity. 0, 
what deep heart-searchings for sin, whilst 
experiencing the most excruciating pain. 
It appeared as though every thing that 
had transpired during the past year, 
came up before me at once. In view of 
what had passed during the year, which 
was just about to close, I felt almost 
unwilling to enter upon the commence- 
ment of the new, — felt like clinging to 
the old year, and expiring with it. I 
knew what had transpired during the 
one just closing ; but did not know what 



MARY RANKIN. 193 

was in reserve for me, in the one to 
come. But this morning the tumult of 
my feelings are calmed, and I feel to say. 
come life; come death; come what may — - 
I can "bow in humble submission, and 
gently kiss the rod that smites me ; know- 
ing full well that it is directed by a 
Father's hand, and trusting in Him, who 
hath said, "That all things work togeth- 
er for good to them that love the Lord." 

Sabbath 6th. — Suffered very much for 
several days past, both in body and in 
mind. Rested pretty well during the 
night, and therefore feel better this morn- 
ing. A calm, sweet, deep peace has 
settled on my soul. 

When I awoke, the sunbeams, which 
had long been excluded from my cham- 
ber, stole through the parted curtains. 
Whilst beholding them, I felt for a mo- 
ment, as though my night of affliction 
had passed — felt an impulse to arise and 
offer unto my Maker a morning sacrifice, 
as I was wont to do in days of other 
years. My remaining weakness, how- 
ever, and a return of pain, soon assured 
13 



194 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 



me, that my hetterness was transient as 
the sunbeams which had stolen into my 
window, only to be excluded again. JFor 
a moment I felt disappointed, but grace 
— sweet grace — soon triumphed. 

The remainder of the day was spent in 
prayer and gratitude to Gfod, who giveth 
not His Spirit by measure unto us ; but 
can in all things, and under all circum- 
stances enable us to say, "Thy will be 
done." 

Saturday 23d. — Spent a sleepless night, 
and suffered greatly from an attack of 
vomiting, which reduced my physical 
strength very much. Still I felt to re- 
joice in the Grod of my salvation. Had 
the pleasure of a visit from Miss Moillie 
M. Harnish and Miss Kate Good. 

Sunday 27th. — Whilst noticing my 
physician preparing a cooling draught 
for me, and the effect produced by one 
ingredient upon another, it brought to 
my mind a study,— which I perused some 

-on "Mind and 



six or seven years ago- 



Matter" — the durability of both. I 
was watching the chemical action which 



MARY RANKIN. 195 

was going on in the process of efferves- 
cence, in which one substance was being- 
lost in another, so that they seemed to be 
entirely destroyed ; and yet, knowing that 
by certain chemical action, they could 
again be reduced to their former state, — 
I was led to spiritualize my former study. 
It suggested, thoughts of the Resurrec- 
tion morn, when this body, though pre- 
viously reduced to its mother dust, and 
apparently passed away, or entered into 
the formation of other substances — shall 
again be brought forth and re-united with 
the immortal spirit — that, as it was a 
co-partner in its sufferings, it may then 
be in its joys. 

Monday 28th.— On account of the pe- 
culiar sensitiveness of my nervous sys- 
tem, (which is so easily affected by every 
change in the atmosphere), even the 
sportive winds, which played around our 
humble dwelling, caused me to pass an 
uncomfortable and sleepless night; and 
to realize for myself the meaning of the 
patient Job when he said, " Wearisome 
nights are appointed unto me." But 



196 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

still I was enabled to obtain comfort 
from the thoughts suggested the previous 
evening by the preparation of the effer- 
vessing draught. 

Oh ! how sweat will be the sleep of the 
grave; especially when we " rest in 
hope, " knowing that our Redeemer liv- 
eth; and that when we arise, "we shall 
be like him whom we shall see for our- 
selves and not for another." These con- 
soling thoughts gave me comfort ; and, 
comparatively sweetened my pain. 0, for 
patience!— that ennobling grace which 
shall enable me to bear, with Christian 
fortitude, all that my Heavenly Father 
may see fit to lay upon me. 

But aside from the thoughts of the 
Ressurrection, suggested by the chemical 
action before spoken of; it also taught me 
another useful lesson — that of looking 
well to my thoughts and actions, which 
will not only tell on myself in eternity ; 
but also on those by whom we are sur- 
rounded. 

Little did my kind physician think 
while administering wants, that to my 



MARY KANKIX. 197 

he was also affording me spiritual com- 
fort. 0, how careful should we live, so 
as not only to avoid every appearance of 
evil on our own account; but also that of 
others! Our words, our thoughts, and 
our actions, — how they may add to the 
comfort and happiness ; or the discomfort 
and misery of those with whom we have to 
do. During my affliction, I have real- 
ized for myself, the meaning of that sen- 
tence, — " a kind word — nay, even a kind 
look, often affords comfort to the afflicted." 
Tuesday 29th. — My bodily afflictions 
still continue to be great. My physician 
proposed to introduce a seton with the 
hope of relieving me ; but I felt almost 
unwilling to submit, and. could scarcely 
suppress my tears. But when reflecting 
for a moment, that it was not from choice 
but duty that it was proposed, and a 
hope of bettering my condition ; I was 
enabled to regain a composed frame of 
mind. For a moment it seemed as if I 
were called not only to suffer in every 
possible way from disease; but also from 
the means resorted to for my relief 



198 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

This inquiry arose in my mind, " Why 
have I to suffer more than appears to fall 
to the common lot of mankind?" "Is 
it, because I am a more rebellious child 
than others, that it requires such means 
to keep me humble?" "Or is it for 
some wise purpose that my Heavenly 
Father has in view." But as these 
thoughts were suggested, my mind ad- 
verted to the words of the Savior, and as 
I meditated upon them, my heart was 
filled with unusual comfort. The words 
are, "What thou knowest not now, thou 
shait know hereafter." I felt calmly to 
sink into His will and sav,— " even so 
Father, if so it seemeth good in thy 
sight; " knowing He is too wise, to err, 
and too good to be unkind ; and that He 
will do all things well. 

Sabbath, March 9th.— Suffered very 
much from nervous irritability ; — felt 
lonely and disconsolate — had a great de- 
sire to read my Bible, from which on 
former occasions I received so much con- 
solation. Though I am still unable to 
read more than a verse or two at a time, 



MARY RANK IX. li)& 

in consequence of pain and suffering pro- 
duced in my head and eves, yet I have 
great reason to be thankful, that I have 
been heretofore able to lay up a store of 
Scriptural knowledge, which now affords 
me great comfort. It is a uever-failing 
fountain — a well from which I can ever 
draw fresh supplies. Memory can re- 
trace almost every scene recorded in the 
Bible, commencing at the creation, fol- 
lowing it down to the days of the patri- 
archs ; and thence with Jacob and his 
descendants down into Egypt, and their 
bondage ; thence at the word of the Lord 
coming up out of the same, and their 
being shut in at the Red Sea, dashing 
waves in front, Pharaoh and his host fol- 
lowing in their footsteps, — Israel calling 
on G-od for deliverance, beholding the 
sea part hither and thither until its ma- 
jestic walls tower high above our heads ; 
with them, in imagination, I tread noise- 
lessly through on dry land, fearing that 
I should disturb the crystal walls, and in 
a moment become engulphed in a watery 
grave. Having reached the other shore. 



200 AUTO-BIOQKAFHY OF 

I join with them to sing the song of De- 
liverance ;— and thus continue my wan- 
derings with the prophets and apostles, 
throughout the rich historic scenes re- 
corded by the inspired penmen. 0, how 
sweet to dwell on those Heaven-penciled 
pictures, especially that of Redemption. 

In the midst of my other afflictions 
and deprivations, I have great reason to 
be thankful that my mind has ever been 
free ; so that in a measure, at least, my 
mental and spiritual enjoyments have 
made up for all other losses. 

Thursday 13th. — I am suffering much 
pain — feel lonely and distressed! My 
dear mother, who has been my faithful 
attendant during my scenes of affliction, 
came into my room, with feeble step and 
faltering voice, saying, "Oh! how sick I 
am!" That step, once so elastic and 
firm ; and that voice, to me ever musical 
and cheering— Oh! how it affected my 
soul to listen to it, now so feeble ! How 
the reflection pained me, that, perhaps, 
her constant care and unwearied atten- 
tion to me ? was the cause of her illness. 



MAEY RANKIN. 201 

I felt like exclaiming, "0, mother, that I 
could bear your sufferings with those of 
my own ! " 0, how can I repay you for 
your watchfulness and undving love? 
I know I cannot ; but there is one before 
whom not a sparrow shall fail to the 
ground unnoticed, who will amply re- 
ward thee for thy tender care. For thee 
shall my prayer ever ascend to Him, that 
His choicest blessings mav rest iiDon 
thee in time, and a crown of glory encir- 
cle thy brow in that blest world of never- 
fading glory, and unending Best! 

Sunday 16th. — Spent a very restless 
night — felt something easier this morn- 
ing. Have meditated much on the good- 
ness of God, — particularly on the insti- 
tution of the Sabbath, which, to me, has 
always been a delight, as it typified the 
rest of an Eternal Sabbath for the peo- 
ple of Grod. 

0, how oft have I longed to be releas- 
ed from this prison house of clay, to en- 
ter on that Sabbath which shall never 
end ! Blest Day ! how little are thy privi- 
leges appreciated by many, who are per- 



202 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY &G. 

mitted to sit under the droppings of the 
Sanctuary. Of the many pleasures which 
have been denied me, I have wished for 
none more, than that of attending the 
house of worship. 

Wednesday 23d. — Felt solitary and 
reflective, as if shut up in a lonely cell, 
without a friend to cheer or comfort me, 
except Him who has promised to stick 
closer than a brother. But was again 
consoled by the visit of one whose friend- 
ship has been long tested, and whose 
acts of kindness are written on the tablets 
of my memory, from which they can 
never be erased. At this time I felt a 
deeper sense of gratitude than usual, 
from a small act of kindness ; which no 
doubt was thought very trivial, but to me 
appeared great, and the more sensibly 
affected me on account of the silent and 
unobtrusive manner in which it was con- 
ferred. As many friends have made me 
partakers of their temporal blessings, my 
prayer is that they may be partakers of 
eternal blessings. 



CHAPTER III. 

Monday, April 28th.— Read the 19Ui 
Psalm, and meditated upon it. How 
beautifully has the Psalmist set forth the 
power, the wisdom, and the goodness of 
God! — "Day unto day uttereth speech, 
and night unto night showeth knowl- 
edge," — and yet the half of His goodness 
and greatness hath not, nor cannot be 
told. Was kindly visited to-day by Rev. 
J. Elliott, and also Miss Mary Graham. 

Wednesday 30th. — Rested pretty well 
during the night; and therefore felt 
somewhat refreshed this morning, by na- 
ture's own nepenthe. I awoke with 
these words resting upon my mind, — Let 
the words of my mouth, and the medita- 
tions of my heart be acceptable in Thy 
sight, 0, God ! My Redeemer, be Thou 
my prophet, daily to warn me of dangers 
nigh ; — my priest, to enable me to offer 
my sacrifices in an acceptable manner ; — 



204 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

and my king, to rule in, and over my 
every thought, word, and action, and 
bring all into sweet subjection to thy 
holy will. 

Friday, May 9th. — Am suffering very 
much. Suppuration is about taking 
place in one of my tonsils. But notwith- 
standing I feel to say, that Grod is good, 
— He is gracious, — Pie is kind! The 
Captain of our Salvation has been made 
perfect through suffering ; and surely the 
servant is not above his Master. These 
afflictions are needful, or they would not 
be visited upon us. 

Sunday 11th. — I endeavored to look 
beyond this vale of tecirs, to that Sabbath 
of Eternal Rest, which God hath prepar- 
ed for all those who truly love Him. 
Meditated on these words, — "In all 
things give thanks." While enduring 
the effect of the pruning knife, it appears 
almost impossible, for nature to give 
thanks; yet by the aid of grace, we can do 
all things. 

Sunday 15th. — Still reminded by the 
pain I suffer, that the seeds of death are 



MAEY RANKIN. 205 

sown in this frail tenement. Was medi- 
tating on death and my prospects for the 
future state of existence. My mind re- 
verts to a conversation which I had with. 
a friend some time since on the recogni- 
tion of saints, and the probability of be- 
ing permitted to become ministering 
spirits to those for whom, in life, we 
felt deeply interested. To me, how 
pleasing the thought. This being the 
case, I shall be able to return, at least, 
in some measure, the care and attention 
of my kind friends, who have so kindly 
watched by my bed-side clay and night, 
and strove to anticipate my every want, so 
as to render me comfortable and happy. 
Saturday 21st. — Suffering very much 
from pain in my side. Frail creatures 
of a moment ! — what is life ? 

"An hour -glass on the run, 
A mist retreating from the sun." 

But Grod, in whom we trust, is good, 
and will never leave nor forsake us, un- 
less we first forsake Him. He has promis- 
ed to be " with us in six troubles," and I 
have found it to be yea and amen. "And 



208 AXTTOBIGGKAPHY OF 

in the seventh (which is death), I will 
not forsake thee." Therefore in the 
Jordan of death, I feel that I can trust in 
Him. I enjoyed sweet communion in 
prayer during a visit from Rev. M. 
Aughe, 

Sunday 22d. — Pain in my side still 
increasing. Suffered, very much from a 
sense of oppression about my heart. My 
trust is in God. He is unto my soul 
as the shadow of a great rock in a dreary 
land, whereunto I may continually resort. 
Enjoyed sweet communion with God to- 
day. " Who is like unto Thee, 0, Lord ! 
who giveth songs in the night," and 
causeth us to rejoice in the midst of 
trials and sufferings ? If I forget Thee— 

"May this hand forget its skill, — 
This tongue be silent, cold, and still; 
This bounding heart forget to beat, 
Should I forget the Mercy Seat/ 1 

Mother being absent at a communion 
meeting, I had Miss Mary G. to spend 
the day with me. Had a visit from Bro. 
H. Weight. 

Sunday 29th.— Again has the day 



MAKY KANKIN. 207 

which God has hallowed and set apart as 
His own, rolled around — 

"Day of all the week the best — 
Emblem of eternal rest ! " 

Of that Sabbath which shall have no 
night. 

How beautifully hath it been said by 
a certain writer, — " The Sabbath is a 
golden clasp, which binds up the volume 
of the week." 0, how carefully should 
we read what is written in that volume, 
knowing that it shall form our weal or 
w T oe, for eternity! 

May 30th. — Resting more easily this 
morning than for several davs past. Still 
feel my bodily weakness, and as if this 
earthly house must soon be dissolved. 
Thank God ! that I can say, " For me to 
live is Christ's, but to die is gain. 7 ' The 
whole business of my life has been to 
prepare for death. When the Bride- 
groom cometh, 0, that I may have my 
lamp trimmed and burning, ready to 
enter into the marriage supper of the 
Lamb ! Was visited to-dav, bv the Rev. 
Rankin, Mr. Weight, and physician. 



208 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

Friday, July 4th. — Suffering greatly 
from pain in my side and head, owing 
partially to nervous irritation, caused by 
the storminess of last night. How awe- 
stricken do we become when beholding 
the power of the Almighty as displayed 
in the warring elements. The lightnings 
play from cloud to cloud, and in quick 
succession dart down to our earth, while 
the thunders roll, and the rains descend, 
and the winds blow. Yet we cannot tell 
whence they come, or whither they go. 

Having just completed the task — or as 
I should call it — duty (for such I regard 
it), of dictating " The History of my 
Life and Religious Experience" up to 
this date, my mind feels at rest. Earlier 
than usual, as the curtains of eve' were 
being drawn, I fell into a sweet and re- 
freshing sleep, from which I awoke but 
shortly before to storm commenced. 

Whilst thinking over the past, present, 
and future in reference to those notes be- 
ing brought before the public, and the 
responsibility attending their publicity, 
my mind felt unusually depressed. I 



MARY EANKIX. 209 

thought they were too lame a sacrifice for 
God to accept. But my soul cried out, 
" Here Lord am I " do with me and mv 

offering as seemeth good unto Thee; only 
so that thy name may be glorified. As 
for myself, I am willing to be anything, 
or nothing ; or as the poet says — 

"Willing to be little and unknown, 
Prized and loved by Him alone." 

Sunday, July 6th. — Am suffering very 
much from pain in my side and head, ac- 
companied with fever. Still my mind is 
stayed upon Him, who "in all our afflic- 
tion is afflicted." Peace — that "peace 
which passeth all understanding," and 
"flows as a river" is still granted unto 
me. In the silent watches of the nistfit 
my meditation is of Grod. Theoretically \ 
may I study to know Him, whom to 
know aright is life eternal. Experiment- 
ally, may I love Him with my whole 
soul, mind, and strength. Practically, 
may my life be that of obedience to Him ; 
for "to obey is better than sacrifice." 
Unless these graces are united in my 

heart, I cannot serve God acceptably. 
14 



210 AUTO-BIGGKAPHY OF 

Wednesday, July 9th. — Rested unusu- 
ally well last night. Thanks to a kind 
Providence! Felt comparatively easy 
this morning, — spent the day chiefly in 
pleasant reflections, meditation, and 
prayer. In the evening had the pleasure 
of a visit from my friends, Mrs. Graham 
and Isett ; the latter with Mrs. Feay and 
several other kind ladies, it has pleased 
a Benevolent Providence to add to my 
list of friends during my recent illness. 
With gratitude I shall ever remember 
them. 

Friday, July 11th. — Suffered intensely 
during the night, on account of an acci- 
dental injury, from which I have been 
suffering for some time. My nervous 
system appears to be completely un- 
strung. The action of my heart is so 
much interfered with, that at times, the 
"wheels of the fountain" almost refused 
to perform their duty, and the life cur- 
rent, which flows into the golden bow], 
but feebly returned from it again. Then 
again, the action of the heart is increas- 
ed, as if laboring to bound from its na- 



MARY EANKI.W 211 

tive place. But such is life— a vapor 
that appeareth for a moment, and then 
passeth away. 

Saturday, July 12th. — Rested some 
during the night, but still suffer very 
much this morning from pain in my 
head, and oppression at the heart. 
Meditated on the scene at the pool of 
Bethesda, John, Chap, 5. Never did 
this passage strike my mind so forcibly 
before. "A certain man was there, 
which had an infirmity thirty and eight 
years." The wheels of time have yet 
described but half that number of years 
for me. " Then why should I murmur or 
feel to complain ? " Others have suffer- 
ed longer, and perhaps more than I ; yet 
in the end deliverance came. Patience, 
then, my troubled soul! What, if I 
should have to suffer out my threescore 
years and ten ! I know it cannot last 
always. My day of deliverance too, will 
come, should it even be the deliverance 
of death ! 

Monday, July 14th. — This morning 
finds me somewhat refreshed, though 



212 AUTOBIOGKAPHY OF 

still suffering from pain in my head and 
side. " I slept and awoke and found my 
kind Preserver near." I have always 
endeavored to stay my waking thoughts 
on Him, who kindly watches over and 
preserves us whilst we lie in the emblems 
of death. 0, that when I awake from 
that long, last sleep, my thoughts, my 
hopes, my joys may all be realized in 
Him. 

Julv 15th, 18th. — Suffered much from 
head-ache — more than usual — yet my 
time passed pleasantly, and the more 
especially so, from the society of some 
friends, who favored me with a kind 
visit. Friendship ! thou Heaven's sweet- 
est boon to man — 0, how I love thee ! 
without thee, earth to me, would be a 
dreary wilderness indeed ! But if earth- 
ly friendship be so sweet, what must that 
of heaven's be ? God Himself is love, 
"and those that dwell in love dwell in 
God," Himself the center of attraction. 
With what harmonious delight will all 
move around that center. 

Thursday, July 17th.— This head still 



aTaey rankest. 213 

continues its throbbing?, which, with in- 
creased pain in my side, rendered me 
very uncomfortable during the night, and 
I also feel somewhat depressed by the 
sense of loneliness which is usually felt, 
when finding ourselves alone, after a 
visit from our friends. In this particu- 
lar, I sometimes find it hard to say with 
the apostle, "I have learned in all things 
to be content." Still in this, as w T ell as 
other things, I have learned the use of 
moderation. When favored with the 
society of friends I enjoy it ; — when left- 
alone, I enjoy the sense of the nearness 
of that friend, which is to be preferred to 
all others. 

Friday, July 19th.— Rested some dur- 
ing last night, but still suffer from pain 
and nervous debility. On awaking this 
morning my mind rested on these words, 
" When I awake, I am still with thee to 
bless — with thee to comfort, and with 
thee to cheer. ?? " 0, that in life I may 
ever realize that thou art with me! and 
in death I shall be satisfied when I 
awake in thy likeness !" 



214 



AUTO-BIOGRAPHY of 



My disease now became more violent, 
acute inflammation of the liver set in, 
which resulted in the formation of an 
abscess in the left lobe of that organ, 
which, after four weeks of intense suffer- 
ing, broke and discharged favorably. 

During its formation my suffering was 
much increased by the discharge of Bil- 
iary Calculi (or gall stone), from which I 
suffered, if possible, more than from any 
previous attack of the same kind. 

After the abscess had discharged, I 
was left in a very low and reduced situa- 
tion for some time. Not having dis- 
charged so freely as was desired, fears 
were entertained of its forming a second 
time ; in view of which, it was thought 
necessary to introduce a seton, which 
seemed, at this time, to benefit me ; as it 
seemed to arrest the inflammatory action, 
and the tendency to purulent accumula- 
tion. 

As before remarked, how strange have 
been the dealings of Providence with 
me. For several months past, I appear- 
ed, slowly to improve ; and was beginning 



MARY RANK IN. 215 

to entertain hopes of being restored to 
ordinary health. Had even recovered 
so far as to be able to be raised to a par- 
tially sitting posture in the bed ; when I 
again suddenly took worse, and for sev- 
eral weeks seemed lingering between life 
and death. Ofttimes sighing to be re- 
leased from this body of suffering, and 
yet willing to "wait all the days of my 
appointed time until my change shall 
come. 5 ' 

My mind during this attack was con- 
stantly stayed on G-od. He was my com- 
fort by day and my solace by night, 0, 
how shall I ever love or serve Him 
enough, for the all-sufficiency of that 
grace, which He hath ever granted unto 
me in every hour of trial, temptation or 
affliction ! 

I again found myself slowly improv- 
ing ; and in this state I continued, with 
slight variations during the winter. 

In October of the year (1856), I re- 
member of a singular circumstance 
taking place, which I will here relate. 
Finding myself again alone, after having 



216 



AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 



enjoyed the society of several friends, I, 
as usual, experienced feelings of loneli- 
ness. It being a calm, and beautiful af- 
ternoon in autumn, my ear was greeted 
with the monotonous songs of the cricket 
and katy-clid, to which in my solitude, I 
had ofttimes listened with much delight ; 
and wished within myself, that I could 
understand their language, so that I 
might know what their song, on which 
they seemed so intent, really meant. 
Surely it can be none other than praise 
to Him at whose bidding they had come 
forth. At this time their melody appear- 
ed full of sadness, and added to the 
feeling of solitude which already weighed 
down my spirits. But never willingly 
giving way to such feelings or reflections, 
I lifted my languid eye in hopes that it 
might rest on some object, that might 
serve to ivhile this somber mood away. 
And what was my surprise to behold a 
beautified miniature rainbow in my room 
— occasioned by the reflection of a sun- 
beam, which fell upon a fragment of 
glass in my chamber window, as it stole 



MAEY EA1NTKIN. 217 

softly in at the parted curtain ; and thus 
forming a prismatic rainbow. 0, with 
what wonder and delight did I behold 
this phenomenon ! It inspired me anew 
with hope, and suggested thoughts of 
God's covenant with Noah, and reminded 
me of the apocalyptic vision ; "And there 
was a rainbow around about the throne, 
in sight like unto an emerald." 

Being something better during the 
winter, I began to be able to read some 
occasionally, — a privilege of which I had 
been deprived for a year and a half pre- 
viously — a blessing which I had always 
regarded as indispensable to my happi- 
ness. I had often thought that I could 
part with any other comfort but this ; — 
thought how utterly miserable I would 
be, and how heavily time would pass, if 
deprived of my books — my ever dear 
companions. 

0, how I had longed to read my Bible, 
blest book of inspiration! But even 
from this deprivation I learned a lesson. 
God will not that we have any idols ; yet 
how prone is the heart of man to make 



218 



ATJTO-BTOGEAPHY OF 



to itself other gods than the Almighty. 
My hooks it appears, were mine. But 
when deprived of them, I sought my 
happiness in the All-Supreme alone; and 
learned for myself, that although depriv- 
ed of the last and only earthly comfort 
which I coveted, I could still be happ}^. 

My health throughout the Winter, con- 
tinued slowly but steadily to improve. 
Toward spring I again began to be able 
to be raised up in bed ; which, however, 
had to be done very gradually, on ac- 
count of my weakness. 

In march I again became able to re- 
sume my pen. Almost two years had 
elapsed since I laid it down, little dream- 
ing at the time, that so long a period 
would pass, before I could take it up 



again. 



Once more, gentle Spring, with her 
balmy breezes, sought my sick chamber ; 
and fanning my fevered brow, seemed to 
impart new life and vigor to my en- 
feebled frame; so that by July I was 
able to sit up so long as nr^ bed was be- 
ing made. 



MARY T7AXKTX. 219 

From that period, my health has con- 
tinued gradually to improve. The ex- 
tremely nervous sensibility under which 
I have labored during this, as well as 
former attacks of illness — and which has 
added so much to my suffering, and ren- 
dered it the more excruciating — has meas- 
urably subsided. The formation of the 
Calculi — -judging from present indications 
— being overcome, my physician is san- 
guine of my ultimate recovery; unless 
some Providential interference should 
take place. 

I am resolved, whether I live or die, 
to be the Lord's. Life has no charms 
for me, further than it can be made sub- 
servient to Grocl's glory- Death hath no 
fears for me, since Christ has robbed him 
of his sting. I live but as a monument 
of His mercy. With the apostles I can 
say, "the life that I now live is not mine, 
but Christ's who liveth in me." There- 
fore come ease or pain, come life or death, 
— soon — soon shall "this mortal put on 
immortality and corruptible incorrup- 
tion !" and I be enabled, with all those 



220 AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF 

who have gone up through great tribula- 
tion, and washed their robes and made 
them white in the blood of the Lamb, to 
enter into the fullness of that joy which is 
reserved for all who love the appearing 
of the Lord. 

In that haven of Eternal Repose 
may I not hope to meet with you, dear 
reader? If for Christ, you have counted 
all things but loss, — if you have forsaken 
the world, with all its vain delights and 
empty show, then I feel assured that we 
shall hail each other happy on the other 
shore. But on the other hand, if you are 
still out of Christ, be entreated to come 
unto Him and live ! Secure your eternal 
all, the salvation of your soul, ere it be 
forever too late. To you the invitation is 
extended — hear it, — " The Spirit and the 
Bride say come ; and all that will come, 
may come, and drink of the waters of life 
freely." 

And now, dear reader, I have given 
to you my views and feelings in regard 
to the afflictive dispensations of Provi- 
dence which have been allotted unto me, 



MAEY BANKIK. 221 

And while I take an affectionate leave, 
may I not indulge the hope that that 
" char ity which thinketh no evil 55 will 
allow her golden mantle to be thrown 
around my weaknesses ! In this hope — 
whilst a sweet consoling voice appears to 
whisper, " she hath done what she could " 
— I pray that the fullness of that grace, 
the richness of which I have so fully 
tested, may be abundantly added unto 
you; and that He "that maketh the 
weak things of this world to confound 
the mighty" — may in some way make 
this feeble effort redound to His glory 
and your eternal good; — and thus shall 
my highest ambition be fully realized. 

Adieu. 



CHAPTER IV. 

MKS. SNYDER* S LETTER. 

[Note. — The following interesting epistle was 
kindly furnished by Miss Rankin's devoted and 
Christian friend Mrs. M. V. Snyder (lady of Rev. 
S. S. Snyder Missionary to Kansas), who was solic- 
ited to contribute something to the pages of this me- 
moir.— D. R. G.] 



"My first acquaintance with Miss 
Rankin w as formed about six years ago ; 
and with it, commenced a friendship of 
the most sacred character. I remember 
her among my most clear and valued 
friends. Our acquaintance did not begin 
until long after she had become the sub- 
ject of more severe affliction than has 
generally fallen to the lot of frail human- 
ity ; yet I have seen her suffer more than 
I thought any human being could en- 
dure. When I first visited her, she was 
able to sit in her chair, and with the as- 
sistance of a friend could walk from one 



AUTO-BIOGRAPHY, &C. 223 

room to another. But it was not long 
until she was again laid on a bed of suf- 
fering from which she did not rise for 
more than two years, during which time 
I visited her often, and spent much time 
by her bed-side and witnessed some of her 
severe afflictions. 

"The slightest noise imaginable would 
give her pain and cause her to faint. I 
remember once of seeing her, when I 
thought her sufferings were over, and her 
spirit had gone to its reward. One night, 
when I was watching by her bed, a friend 
came in and taking my place for a while, 
I went up stairs and slept some time ; 
when I awoke, it was not yet morning, I 
got up to go down to relieve the watcher : 
a cat, which had by some means got up 
stairs, ran down before me ; I knew the 
noise would cause Mary to faint ; but 
knowing that there was a trusty friend 
with her, I did not go into her room for 
some ten or fifteen minutes. When I 
went in, her friend was laying on a couch 
at the side of the bed holding her hand. 
They both appeared to be sleeping ; but 



224 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF 

I was fearful that Mary had fainted. I 
could not get to her without first 
arousing her friend, and I knew that in 
awaking one, I would awake both, which 
I was loth to do, for it was but little sleep 
that she got. I took the lamp and held 
it close to her face, and thought I could 
see her breathe, and then sat clown and 
read a book for half an hour. I became 
somewhat uneasy and awoke her friend, 
and on examining again we discovered 
that she did not breathe ; her hands were 
cold, and we could discover no signs of 
life except a slight beating of the heart ; 
we applied restoratives for half an hour 
before she began to breathe freely. She 
was very much exhausted, and suffered 
from pain in her head all day. I have 
seen her faint as often as twenty times 
during the day. 

" Although it has been her lot to en- 
dure great infirmity and pain for years, 
yet she w T as always ready to share the 
affliction of others. She endured all her 
sufferings with the submission and pa- 
tience becoming her profession. I never 



MARY RANKIN. 225 

yet heard her utter an impatient word. 
She has so long been accustomed to re- 
gard her affliction as the providence of 
God, and has so long experienced the 
spiritual benefit resulting from sanctified 
pain, that she seems rather to enjoy it 
and turn it into occasions of thanksgiving 
and praise than otherwise. I once said 
to her, Mary, your sufferings are veiy 
great; she replied, not so great as my 
Savior's. At another time, I said, Mary, 
I think you have suffered enough ; she 
quickly replied, no, not until I have done 
the will of G-od. 

As a Christian, she certainly is an ex- 
ample for us all. She is possessed of 
much tenderness of Christian feeling. 
In one respect, much of the same mind 
dwells in her that was in Christ : she 
feels much for her brethren and sisters 
in the Lord, and her heart bleeds for 
those who are out of Christ, and yet she 
entertains the keenest indignation for 
iniquity, and every exhibition of it pro- 
vokes her Christian abhorrence. Hers 
is a character most exauisitely formed for 
15 



226 AUTO-BIOGKAPHY OF! 



Christian friendship. In her friends, she 
reposes the most unbounded confidence, 
and hers is a heart, to which, when dis- 
tressed, they can unbosom every thought, 
and find a sympathy and consolation for 
every sorrow and trouble. I speak not 
this at random, I know it from sweet ex- 
perience. 

I never saAv a finer example of a 
"living sacrifice," — she seems, indeed, to 
reckon herself as "not her own, but 
bought with a price ; " and as such she is 
entirely devoted to the glory of Grod ; nor 
does she seem to regard the sacrifice, 
only, so that is promoted. Faith and 
works which Grod has joined, she never 
separates ; she thinks she never has done 
enough as long as any thing remains to 
be done. She is never happier than 
when she has an opportunity of minister- 
ing to the comforts of others. She in- 
structs the ignorant, sympathizes with 
the afflicted, and in every way seeks to 
do good to others, as well as to enrich 
her own soul. She delights much in the 
society of her friends, and is by nature, 



MARY RANKIN. 227 

social. She is possessed of a lively im- 
agination ; a mind well cultivated ; and a 
heart overflowing with affection. She is 
cheerful and happy herself, and strives to 
make all around her happy. Her w hole 
deportment is the most sincere, affection- 
ate and winning, and secures for her the 
esteem and confidence of all who know 
her. Anything relative to her life and 
experience must have a soul-cheering 
effect on the Christian, and tend to de- 
monstrate the peace and power of true 
religion. M. V. Snyder. 



POEMS. 



MISSIONARY HYMN. 

Hark ! I hear a wail of anguish, 

'Tis the Macedonian cry ; 
" Come ye Christians, come and help us/ 
Is the burthen of the sigh, 
"Must we perish, 
When salvation is so nigh?" 

Lo! 'tis Afric's sons and daughters, 
Lift to us this plaintive cry; 

" Hasten! hasten o'er the waters, 
Messengers of the Most High j 

'Tis the gospel, 
That can all wants supply/' 

And from India's heathen shores, 

Whispering breezes waft the sigh; 

" Haste, ye heralds of salvation, 
Lo! to you we lift our eye; 
Must we languish — 
Perish, 'neath this pagan sky?" 



230 MISSIONARY HYMN. 

Thus from every land resoundetb, 
Calls we may not disobey; 

Since the Lord to every nation, 
Wills the light of gospel day; 

Free salvation, 
Shall they still in bondage stay? 

Fathers, have you not an Isaac ? 

Pay unto the Lord your vow : — 
He who gave — forever faithful — 

Wills that you restore him now; 
At his altar 

Freely to the mandate bow. 

Mother, bring that cherished'daughter, 
(Ah, what liquid pearls I see,) 

She may win a son to Jesus, 

Feeble though her efforts be; 

What a privilege 
Thus to labor, Lord for Thee. 

Haste, though neither son nor daughter, 
(Jewels of the heart that be,) 

Still he calls — oh, hear him gladly, 
With your substance honor me; 

Ope your coffers, 
Let your "golden eagles" free. 

With your prayers onward speed them, 



VISIONED GLOEY. 231 

O'er the land, and o'er the sea; 

Christ and dying heathens need them — 

Give, and your reward will be 

By the river 
Of salvation, full and free. 

Lift your eyes, behold the harvest 

Ripening in each heathen clime; 
Strengthen thou the weary laborers, 

They have claims on thee and thine; 

Then together 
Stars in glory ye shall shine. 
March 17 th, 1858. 



VISIONED GLORY. 

INSCRIBED TO S. M. ROSS, M. B. 

This fleeting world how false, yet fair, 
Its gems, and crowns, and jewels are; 
And lofty domes, whose towering hight, 
Are gilt with golden rays of light. 

But what is all this pomp and show, — 
This creature's worth, and wealth below. 
Compared to that which shall be given, 
To those who seek their home in heaven. 



232 YISIONEB GLORY. 

"Eye hatli not seen/' — no mortal sight 
Could gaze upon that dazzling light, 
Where Christ a mansion doth prepare* 
For all who shall his kingdom share, 

4t Ear hath not heard,'* — in earthly sound 
No melody like Heaven's is found ; 
Its music sweet, will charm the ear> 
When thro' the vale of death we peer, 

"The heart of man conceiveth not," 
The glories of Christ for all hath bought; 
Whose patient faith no variance knows, 
But steadfast proves till life shall close. 

Beyond the vale which all pass through, 
There is a place of riches true, 
Whose walls of precious stones so bright, 
And pearly gates, reflect its light. 

Its streets are paved with burnished gold ? 
Brighter than mortals e'er behold; 
Its throne majestic to the view, 
Is circled round with rainbow hue. 

The white robed eiders prostrate fall, 
And hail the Lamb as Lord of all;— 
Their glittering crowns before HIM cast, — r 
Who was and is, the first and last. 



VISIONED GLORY. 233 

Before his glory seraphs quail, 
And cherubims their faces vail; 
Whilst soft-winged angels stand in awe, 
But, Lo! the saints still nearer draw. 

There on the sea of glass they stand, 
Each with a golden harp in hand;— 
They strike anew Redemption's lyre, 
And thus transcend the Angelic choir. 

Now free from sorrow, sin and care, 
They of their Father's bounty share. 
Oh ! how enrapturing to their vision, 
Those golden plains of bright elysian. 

From out the radiant throne of God, 
A crystal stream in grandeur flow'd; 
To all who quaff its waters pure, 
Eternal life and joy are sure* 

Eternal day! — "no night is there/ 5 
No suns are needed — none appear; 
The silvery orb that 'lumes the night, 
Reflects not there its borrowed light. 

The stars — bright lamps to mortals given, 
To cheer their path from earth to heaven; 
When Nature's wheels shall cease their round, 
In endless space will not be found, 



234 THE LOVED ONE. 

Ah, who would stay forever here, 
Since all things lovely disappear? 
Earth's sweetest pleasures fade away, 
Nor friends, — alas! long with us stay. 

Oh, would that I could soar away, 
Beyond the stars to endless day; 
There in immortal youth to bloom, 
And dread no more death's chilling gloom. 

Cleansed in that sin-atoning blood, 
I'd bask in Heaven's effulgent flood, — 
There free from sorrow sin and pain, 
I would with Christ forever reign. 

Mary. 



THE LOVED ONE. 

WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 

That angel babe so sweet, so fair, 
Where is it? "Echo answers where?" 
Whilst 'mid parental tears and sighs, 
Hope glances upward to the skies. 

Beneath the weeping willow's bough — 
True emblem of our heart-felt woe — 
They laid her down in death's sweet sleep, 
Where drooping branchlets o'er her weep. 



THE LOVED ONE. 235 

Whilst trembling leaflets drop their tears, 
The noble trunk still upward peers; — 
Hope-like 'twould point us to the sky. 
Where tears no more bedim the eye. 

There, in that land that knows no blight, 
Her spirit basks in heavenly light; 
Though fondly loved, and loving too, 
Yet Jesus loved her still more true. 

He gave her first our heart's t' enchaia, 
Then gently drew her back again; 
And thus by golden links of love, 
Now binds us to our home above. 

Methinks her spirit 's hovering near;-- 
Our stricken heart would soothe and cheer; 
And woo us to those seats above, 
Where all is joy and peace and love. 

Oh, angel babe, thy mission fill, 
Thus ministering, be with us still; j 
Till freed from earth we soar away, 
To dwell with thee to endless day. 



THE FADING JAPONICA- 

INSCRIBED TO JOHN FEAT, M. D. 

Sweet flower, thy dream of life is o'er, 
Thou *rt folded now to rest ) 

The blighting hand of time no more, 
Shall soil thy snowy crest. 

Within this crystal vase hath lain, 
Thy dewy petals bright, — 

But oh! they'll ne'er reflect again, 
Their silvery ray of light. 

Was it for this, you bloomed awhile ; 

To wither, fade and die? 
Our wayward hearts would ye beguile, 

That we for thee might sigh? 

Ah, no! thy mission now is filled, 
'No longer may'st thou stay; 

Thy duty done: — a murmer still' d, 
Then gently pass away. 

Thus in thy ermine folds has been, 

Hidden the sunbeam's ray; 
In russet shades it now is seen— 

The emblem of decay. 



friendship's flower. 23 

Then fare thee well, life's imagery, 

In mem'ry's golden mart — 
A cynosure thou still wilt be, 

Reflected from my heart. Mary. 



FRIENDSHIPS FLOWER, 

In Friendship's wreath of chosen flowers, 
Entwined by Sylvan's magic powers, 
My amaranthus let me cast; 
Though wild, its bloom will ever last. 

This flower in Eden first was found, 
SpriDging from the hallowed ground; 
Ladened with dewy fragrant flowers, 
JSTor dreamed of future blighting hours. 

Though nipt by sin whilst in the bud, 
In ancient days beyond the flood; — 
Yet e'en in this ungenial clime, 
'Tis ofttimes found in beauty's prime. 

Like evergreen in sterile waste, 
When vernal tints to russet hastes; 
It looms, an emerald setting fair, 
Amidst the winter; snow-wreath there. 

Though 'round it robes of ice-gems gleam, 



n 



238 FRIENDSHIP^ FLOWER. 

Like diamonds in light's penciled beam; 

Yet still its genial ray of light, 

Doth sparkle 'neath this robe so bright. 

But, lo! as dawns the orb of day, 
This frosted tissue fades away; — 
Like friendship that doth only last, 
While fortune's smiles are on us cast. 

But yet a cherished few there are, 
"Whose friendship like to yonder star, 
Doth round us shed a silvery light, 
And thus illumes affliction's night. 

Oh, when this wintry night is past, 
May we but meet in Heaven at last; 
There all of sin and suffering o'er, 
And friend greets friend, to part no more. 

There friendship's flower will sweeter bloom, 
And shed around its rich perfume; 
In vales where spring's fair Sharon's Rose, 
Whose vernal tint no blighting knows. 



THE PRISMATIC RAINBOW. 

(See Page 132 for Explanation,) 

Autumn was in her glory drest — 
All nature seemed at play* 

The day*king hastened to the west, 
To don his gorgeous ray. 

His golden beams within the fold 
Of curtained lattice shone, 

And tuned my heart-like lute of gold 
To strains before unknown. 

As on my weary couch of pain, 

In pensive mood I lay \ 
And languidly had sought in vain, 

To while the hours away ; 

Anon an object caught my view — 
In penciled rays of light — 

Like " Rainbow " of the richest hue, 
Flashed full upon my sight. 

This emblem of that covenant true 
Which God to man has given 



* Autumn is poetically called "Nature's holiday. 1 ' 



240 THE PRISMATIC RAINBOW. 

In angel whispers, seemed to woo 
My thoughts from earth to heaven. 

That "Bow of Promise " that within 
My darkened chamber fell, 

Like ray of hope, whose golden sheen, 
Can clouds and fears dispel. 

So round the throne in emerald light, 
The rainbow glories blend ; 

Softening the dazzling splendors bright 
Which Deity attend. 

In covenant mercy's wide expanse, 
What wondrous love we see ; 

But when beyond the vale advanced, 
What will fruition be? 

Should we then fear the cloud or storm, 
Or aught which may befall, 

Since low around his glorious form, 
Beams radiant love for all ? 

Let mist and clouds the sky o'ercast, 
Affliction's night be drear — 

The morn will dawn the darkness past ; 
The Bow will then appear. 

Were there no clouds, this brilliant sight, 



THE PEISMATIC RAINBOW. 241 

Would ne'er appear to view ; 
The sunbeams parted rays of light, 
NVer span yon arch of blue. 

So should life ever softly glide, 

On^golden pinions fair; 
And pleasures here our hearts betide, 

We'd seek no haven there. 

Affliction like a faithful friend, 

Would bring us nigh to God ; 
Then let us to the voice attend, 

And meekly kiss the rod. 

Hope is the rainbow of the soul, 

Though clouds should gather round ; 

It points us to that blissful goal, 
Where God and Heaven are found. 
16 



[Token.] 

THE FLOWER, 

AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO MISS , WHO 

PRESENTED ME WITH A WHITE VIOLET. 

This emblem of friendship so pure and so true, 
Unfolded its leaves where an evergreen grew ; 
By thee it was plucked as it burst into light, 
And borne to my room in its vesture of white. 

Oft, oft will fond memory her eye on it cast, 
As she glides in the future over joys that are past; — 
Thy sweet beaming countenance then still I'll behold, 
As when to my bosom love did thee enfold. 

Hark, that light stealthy step methinks I still hear, 
Whilst a silvery-toned voice doth sound in my ears ; 
Ah! fancy thou'st lured, and caused me to sigh, 
'Tis only in memory the loved one is nigh. 

Like fragrance shed, tho' the flower is crushed, 
You visit me still when nature is hushed ; — 
That angelic smile with your sweet winning grace, 
Hath won for you friendship that time can't efface. 

May angels, Dear Lady, around thee entwine, 
A wreath of that love that is pure and divine ; — 



THE CULLED ROSE, 243 

I ask that they'll guard thee whilsthere thou dost stay, 
Then lovingly guide thee to realms of bright day. 

There flowers and friendship shall ne'er fade away, 
But bloom in their freshness through eternal day. 
The King in his beauty you then shall behold, 
Whilst you'll tune to his praise, your lyre of gold, 

Mary. 



THE CULLED ROSE, 

INSCRIBED TO D. K. GOOD, M. D. 

Close by the window of my sick chamber — where- 
in I had long been confined — trailed a luxuriant rose- 
bush, whose fragrant branches fell within the open 
casement, and hung their sweetness by my side. 
Unable to extend my hand to pluck the tempting 
beauty, a kind friend placed the prize within my 
grasp. Through his kind assistance I was enabled 
to cull the Rose which suggested the following lines: 



Thrice welcome, sweet Rose, to my chamber again, 
Oft, oft has your presence beguiled me of pain, 
And shed with your beauty and fragrance so sweet, 
A halo of bliss in this lonely retreat. 

O, how dearly I loved in childhood's fair hours, 
To linger and revel in rose-scented bowers ; 



244 THE CULLED ROSE. 

And to watch with intense and childish delight, 
The soft silken petels unfold to the light. 

Bright days of my childhood and youth's budding 

bloom, 
Alas, ye forsake in affliction and gloom 
And only in memory return for awhile 
When fondly recalled my lone hours to beguile. 

Not so with the rose, 0, sweet blushing flower, 
In its annual visits to garden and bower, 
Still in at my lattice doth lovingly creep 
And for me with dew-drops doth tenderly weep. 

Thus a sweet fragrant branch has stolen to my room 
A place quite unfitting such beauty and bloom 
Though silent — it gently doth seem to invite 
To pluck of its roses now blushing in light. 

But affliction has pinioned my hands to my side, 
And even that pleasure to me is denied, 
Yet aided by friendship that sorrow would spare, 
I've plucked the sweet Roselet so blushing and fair. 

Alas ! blooming Rose, thus plucked in my room, 
Thou must wither and fade: — 'tis thy sorrowful doom. 
How striking the emblem of nature's decay, 
For we, like the Rose, are passing away ! 

Look, whilst I'm musing, how sad to behold, 



THE CULLED EOSE. 245 

Its leaves are beginning to wither and fold, 

But still in profusion its nectar is shed, 

And soothes by its fragrance my poor aching head. 

Like the rose I will bow to the will that's Divine, 
And ne'er at his providence may I repine. 
0, let such be my life that when it has fled, 
Its virtues may live when I sleep with the dead. 

May friendship, sweet friendship then plant at my 

tomb, 
A Rose that in beauty and fragrance will bloom ; 
I ask no memento to mark the lone spot, 
But by friends and the Rose let me ne'er be forgot, 



GRATITUDE TO A FRIEND. 

Accept, dear friend this grateful lay : 
Heart's tribute let me proffer, 

For that which gold could ne'er repay, 
Were it my own to offer. 

O, would that pen could but portray, 

The emotions of my heart ; 
Whilst grateful mem'ry doth essay, 

Thank offerings to impart. 

Her records tell of vigils kept, 

Through night's long wearied hours ; 

And visits made, when clouds have wept, 
In sunshine and in showers. 

For this thanks offering be paid, " 
(The effusions of the heart), 

Though oft in accents kind was said 
u Thou need's t not thanks impart." 

Yet he who felt each human woe, 
On life's tempestuous ocean ; 

Hath owned and honored well we know, 
This fervor of emotion. 



GRATITUDE TO A FRIEND. 247 

Behold Him once as Simon's guest, 

Partake of sumptuous fare ; 
Whilst Mary seeks with trembling breast, 

Her heavenly Master there. 

Her grateful tears bedew his feet, 

She wipes them with her hair; 
Whilst humble kiss, and odor sweet, 

They in profusion share. 

The host doth view with haughty scorn.; 

Her tumult of emotion ; 
But he who soothed the heart forlorn, 

Approved of her devotion. 

Then gratitude my heart inspire, 

Since Christ approves the grace : 
My fond heart would attune her lyre, 

And pour her thanks apace. 

Time, my friend, shall not efface, 

Thy kindness from my heart — * 
Nor from my mem'ry e ? er erase — ■ 

Thy noble generous part. 

For thee may joys divinely shed.., 

Bestrew life's path with flowers; 
And heavenly blessings on thy head, 

Descend like dewy showers. 



248 THE WISH. 

And when thy pilgrimage is o'er — 
Life and its trials past — 

May angel's waft thee to that shore 
Where heaven's bright glories last. 



THE WISH. 

A wish, my friend* a wish for thee ;~ 
Say what would'stthou that it should be? 
Shall health or wealth, or honor'd fame, 
Be all ray wish for thee shall claim? 

May these be thine — with joy complete, 
And all of earthly pleasures sweet ; 
Still greater wealth for thee I'd ask, 
Than Ophir with its gilded mask. 

*Tis a rich pearl, Oh, precious prize ! 
That's sought and found by all the 'wise ;— 
Not worldly wisdom — it is naught, 
Compared to what by Christ is taught. 

0, seek it then with all thy heart, 
When found thou wilt not with it part ; 
'Tis the earnest of the Spirit's seal, 
Which all who have both know and feel. 



THE WISH. 249 

The Spirit, aided by the word, 
Doth comfort us when prayer is heard : — 
" Made heir " — 0, truly blest they be, 
Who thus are favored, Lord, by thee. 

Hark ! 'tis the Savior, hear him call, 
(i Seek ye the Kingdom first of all, " 
To-day, 0, would'st thou heed that voice, 
Then should'st thou in His love rejoice. 

Be in thy closet faithful found, 
Such prayer ne'er falleth to the ground, 
There to the doubting oft is given 
An antepast of future Heaven. 

The Gospel Pearl, long sought with care, 
Oft has been found by suppliants there; 
Its lustre — though in secret found, 
Has shone abroad to all around. 

Ring'd with assurance pure and bright, 
And clad in garments fair as light ; — 
All earthly grandeur seems but nought, 
Compared with that which Christ has bought. 

Close with the Spirit— enter in — 
To perfect peace ; thus freed from sin ; 
Joy such as the world ne'er knows, 
Shall thee attend till life doth close. 



250 THE WISH. 

Thus bast thou here my wish complete, 
As offered at the mercy seat, 
Where, for thee still from day to day. 
Will I in deep devotion pray. 

XHE ENJ2. 



ISDEX. 



PAGE, 

Testimonial 4 

Introduction 5 

PART FIRST. 

Auto-Biography 19 

CHAPTEE I. 

An account of my parentage and early history 19 

My first religious impressions 21 

Circumstances which finally led me to God 25 

CHAPTER [I. 

Account of the injury -which caused my protracted 

sickness and suffering. ...„ 28 

My connection with the church 31 

A singular dream 33 

The victory obtained 40 

CAAPTER III. 

My health fails. Attacked with spasms 47 

Dr. Burnet's discovery of the cause of the spasms 51 

CHAPTEE IV. 

Amputation of the limb 57 



252 INDEX. 

PAGE 

An incident 63 

My studies 68 

Visit from Rev. Willoughby 71 

Correspondence with Her. W 72 

CHAPTER V. 

Correspondence continued 78 

Letter to T 85 

Teaching school 96 

Procured an artificial limb 97 

Contemplation of the Heavenly bodies 98 

CHAPTER VI. 

Attacked with hooping cough and scarlet fever 102 

Delight of contemplating flowers 109 

Hepatic Abscess 112 

Letters to Br. S. M. Ross 118 

Pleasure of contemplating nature 121 

Correspondence with Dr. Hoffman 128 

CHAPTER VII. 

Visit to the old homestead 134 

Attend church at Water street 137 

Reflections on prayer fc 145 

Attend Camp-meeting 149 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Resume my studies . 161 

Disappointment in my intended visit to Dr. S. M. 

Ross 165 

Reflection on the use of the senses........ 175 




index. 253 

PART SECOND. 

CHAPTER I. 

PAGE, 

Statement of Dr. S. M. Ross 182 

Extracts from my Journal 192 

Reflections on the Resurrection 196 



Reminiscences of Jewish History 199 

An Exhortation to the Unconverted 220 

Mrs. Snyder's Letter 222 

POEMS. 

Missionary Hymn 229 

Visioned Glory 231 

The Loved One 234 

The Fading Japonica 236 

Friendship's Flower 237 

The Prismatic "Rainbow " 239 

TheJFlower , 242 

The Culled Rose 243 

Gratitude to a Friend 246 

The Wish 248 



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